Conspiricies Investigations and Exploration Oh My
by Thought Reflex
Summary: Greenwall’s hand is still reaching into the Pegasus galaxy, the Trust may be over ambitious, the IOA feel McKay’s competence should be truly inspected and “They found telepathic steel?” Sheppard asked, simply because it had to be said. Sequel to Replaced
1. Chapter 1

**As Promised: Here is the Sequel to "Replaced." We're not actually sure which is more amusing, the fact that it took us a year and a half to write this, or that it took us a year and a half and three hours to come up with the title! **

**NOTES**: You Should REALLY read REPLACED first, as this is a continuation of that story and incorporates some original characters and references to its plot.

Author Notes: This was a fun story to write, and it was wonderful working with Laryn on this piece. We had a great time tearing it apart and putting it back together…and then tearing it apart again ;) Thank you to everyone who took the time to read the original, and I hope this meets up to your expectations (especially as so many of you have been waiting so patiently for this!). Enjoy!

**Rating**: PG 13, minor coarse language

**Characters**: McKay centric, Sheppard, Beckett, Zelenka, Team… EVERYONE

**Length**: approximately 100,000 (Hell yeah!)

**Summary**: Greenwall's hand is still reaching into the Pegasus galaxy, the Trust may be over ambitious, the IOA feel McKay's competence should be truly inspected and "They found telepathic steel?" Sheppard asked, simply because it had to be said.

**Categories**: Everything! Action/Adventure, Friendship, Angst, Drama, McKay Whump, Team, Science Stuff, Episode Related (sort of)…

**Spoilers**: Grace Under Pressure and Critical Mass. Everything up to that point is also fair game.

Conspiracies, Investigations, and Exploration, Oh My!

**By: Laryn and Reflex**

**Earth, 1986 **

It was only when Rodney stopped explaining the correct theorem that he realized the entire class, all thirty of them, were silent and giving him various stages of what he had come to know as the "glare of jealousy." He was sitting towards the front of the ridiculously large lecture hall with everyone else crammed around and behind him, and he could still feel their eyes boring into him. He wasn't even spared the professor's look of animosity, but that was probably because the man had just realized that he was in the wrong (not something that happened very often to professors at this level) and that it had taken a sixteen year old to point it out to him. Rodney squirmed in his seat but refused to sink lower in an attempt to make himself a smaller target for their shocked and annoyed expressions.

"Well, I just thought you might want to know that it was incorrect," he muttered defensively. He knew that was probably cold comfort to the professor and the student somewhere behind him that he had corrected, but it was the truth. He could never understand why they were always so angry when he was just trying to set them on the correct path. Honestly, you'd think they didn't come here to learn. There was a cough from somewhere in the back, and then the same person Rodney had just corrected spoke up again.

"Well, actually, when he put it like that it does make more sense," Rodney had to stop himself from openly scoffing, because, duh, of course it did. Then the glares turned to pondering and some more open discussion and Rodney was thrilled when the class finally ended and he practically flew to the nearest place with food. It was only his third class and he'd already screwed up. He should have known better by now. The rest of the students were all in their final semester and knew each other and here he was waltzing into their class with none of the prerequisites they'd spent the last three and a half years accumulating, and he was correcting them already. _Way to go Rodney, point out the fact that you're a know it all, that's a great way to make friends._ They so hated him.

He barely remembered to mutter a thank you as he took his food and found a nice secluded corner, alone. University life was not turning out at all like he had expected. After going to high school at such a young age and one too many experiences of being stuffed in a locker, he had made the tactical decision to switch to distance education. It was easier to advance faster that way anyway. After a few years of home school, where his parents were barely around and his sister was off happily living life in her boarding school of choice, he had been absolutely thrilled to move into a life with many more social prospects. He could join a real varsity swim team, he could actually study with people…or sit and explain everything to them. He could get a fake ID and hang out with his friends, he could hook up with some of the hot blondes he'd seen in the brochure, not that he thought the average student body consisted of super attractive people, but there were bound to be a few!

Too bad he'd forgotten how young he was, and why he had retreated from high school in the first place. There were people closer to his own age at the university, but they were all first years and he had been moved into the graduating year his first semester. Even that was just for show, because he was well beyond that level of study but they wouldn't allow him to move directly into obtaining his masters and PhD without the paper trail saying he'd completed his undergrad. Therefore it was difficult to meet anyone close to his own age since he wasn't in any of the freshman classes and he lived off campus at his aunt's house. Everyone in his classes was twenty or older and basically looked down their noses at him until he showed them exactly why he was there in the first place.

University sucked, but at least the variety of food was good in Toronto, and with that thought in mind he bit into his souvlaki. His aunt said he was too skinny for his age, and if he wanted to be on the swim team he had to bulk up a bit. He figured discovering the culinary offerings of the city was one way to build his frame, and he was enjoying it immensely until a good looking guy with dark brown hair pulled out the seat across from him and promptly sat down without invitation.

"You're a hard one to track down," he said, a confident smile gracing his lips. Rodney looked into his pale green eyes and then looked around them before verifying that this stranger was indeed speaking to him.

"Excuse me?"

"You shot out of Professor Polanski's class like a bullet. I was almost hit by a car trying to catch up to you and I still didn't know where you went. It's a good thing I was hungry."

"I see…" Rodney put his souvlaki stick down and wiped his hand on his napkin. While he didn't recall ever seeing this man before, he recognized his voice; it was the same guy he'd corrected in class only a half hour before. He was so dead. "Is this the part where you threaten to beat me to a pulp for making you look like an idiot?" And why, oh why couldn't he ever just filter his words? He was surprised, however, when instead of becoming angry the guy across from him laughed. He actually laughed. Rodney looked around again to see if some one else was the cause of humour.

"Nah, I leave that up to my cronies, they're going to jump you on the way home." Rodney's eyes widened at the statement, fear clutching his stomach. He'd been jumped by cronies before and it was not an experience that he wanted to repeat. His fear was apparently blatant on his face however, as the man hastily held up both hands in front of him. "Hey, relax, I'm just kidding. You're an uptight kid, aren't you?" he asked.

"Kid?" Rodney bristled. "I'll have you know that I'm probably the most intelligent individual in this entire University, professors included and I'm sixteen, I haven't been a child for years now."

"Yep, you're definitely too uptight for your own good. I'm Archie by the way."

"Rodney," he supplied, looking him up and down from across the table and wondering, not for the first time, what the hell this guy was doing sitting at his table.

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that you were right, about the theorem."

"Of course I was." Archie laughed and shook his head, and Rodney found himself smirking in response, beginning to feel more at ease under the kind grin.

"Polanski wasn't too impressed when he realized that he's been teaching it incorrectly the last few years. It'll probably take him a while to warm up to you again."

"Again? He didn't like me the moment he met me."

"Yeah well, that's his loss, isn't it? Anyway," Archie stood and picked his bag off the floor, "I just wanted to let you know there's no hard feelings. I'll see you in class."

"Yeah, see you later," Rodney practically blurred the words together in his haste to speak them, and he watched as Archie left the tiny restaurant. Then, smiling to himself he picked up his souvlaki, not minding in the least that it was cold. This whole university thing might not be so bad after all.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

Major Thompkins stopped outside one of several doors that lead into Atlantis' version of a briefing room. The beauty of Atlantis was visible in every delicate curve of wall and in every pane of colourful glass. He could see the care that went into every detail that made this place so majestic, but instead of pausing to admire the architecture as the door panels swung open for them, he stepped swiftly through to the next room. He stopped beside Dr. Strat, the investigating scientist who had accompanied him on this trip, and came face to face with Dr. Elizabeth Weir for the first time. The leader of the Atlantis expedition was already standing behind her desk, an air of confidence and security shrouding her as she looked them both over. A friendly smile caressed her lips, but her eyes were hard and assessing. There was no mistaking her status in this city and he automatically wondered how many times she and McKay had butted heads.

"Major Thompkins, Dr. Strat," she intoned, not bringing any true warmth to her address but still managing to sound as though she was pleased to meet them. "Welcome to Atlantis."

"Thank you, Doctor Weir, though I might say it is unfortunate that we are finally seeing this marvellous city under such difficult circumstances."

"On the contrary, Dr. Strat. I don't think your presence here needs to be difficult at all."

"That's very kind of you." Strat inclined his head in a manner that indicated she was being foolish if she thought his presence would be welcomed and almost dismissed her attempt at making it so. She didn't even twitch. "As you've been expecting us for some time, I will assume that you have made the preparations to accommodate our stay here?" The Doctor spoke for both of them and Thompkins allowed it for the moment. He wasn't much for pleasantry anyway, and he didn't have much patience for politics, despite his healthy respect for it.

"Of course," she nodded curtly. "You have both been assigned temporary quarters under the presumption that you will be here for a limited amount of time. I have not forewarned anyone other than Colonel Sheppard of your arrival, as per the instructions I was given." She looked at them both coolly and then indicated two laptops on the table in front of her. "All the personnel information can be found here, though I'm sure you already have all the data you need."

"Yes, we do. Well then," Dr. Strat clapped his hands together and rubbed them in expectation while his gaze began roaming around the room. His attempt at politics evaporated as his excitement over the city leaked through. Scientists. "I suppose we should get started then."

"Of course, however there are a few things I would like to address before I allow this investigation to begin." She looked at the Doctor pointedly and Thompkins remained silent, carefully noting the firmness of her tone and that she didn't give the shorter Doctor any time to interrupt. She was used to cutting people off, it seemed, and he wondered if she had always had that skill, or if it had recently been honed by pushy scientists who had never learned when to shut-up?

"Atlantis is primarily a scientific expedition, and we are dealing with any number of explosive issues at any given time. My people, both the scientists and soldiers, have jobs to do and if they say that they cannot be interrupted at any time then you will respect their decision and leave them to work. Furthermore, while I am allowing you a great deal of leeway in our city, if you abuse it in any way I will have you sent back to the Daedalus without a moments hesitation and I will postpone this investigation regardless of its apparent necessity. Finally," and now he noticed that she was having a bit more trouble controlling her emotions than she had portrayed thus far. "Dr. Rodney McKay is one of my most respected advisors and, as far as I'm concerned, the most qualified individual for his position within Atlantis. I want it to go on the record, again, that he has my full support and that I did not approve of his not being informed of this investigation."

Thompkins cringed. It had been months since Greenwall's installation as head-scientist. That and the discovery that Caldwell had been compromised by the Trust had shaken the SGC and launched several internal investigations. The two incidents could be completely unrelated, he supposed, but the SGC had been compromised too many times already, and the political fallout among their earth-based allies had been difficult. The on-going investigation into Greenwall's actions was only making the situation worse, since it had become increasingly difficult to trace the actions leading to his placement in Atlantis. Even so, Thompkins had been pleased to learn that General O'Neill had refused to stop the investigation into Greenwall's actions, even if it meant that the SGC had to officially investigate Dr. McKay's competence as chief-scientist for the expedition.

It wasn't as if he'd never been investigated.

Still, they hadn't wanted to give McKay time to prepare for it, either. Command believed that catching the people under investigation off guard would create a more realistic environment to assess them in. It was a discourtesy for someone in McKay's position, and he felt that the Doctor should have been informed, but honestly, Thompkins didn't think that Rodney would have bothered to pull himself away from his work long enough to prepare even had he known.

"Of course, Dr. Weir, your support of Dr. McKay has been noted several times and I will make another notation. Now, where exactly are Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay? I had thought that they would be here when we arrived." He looked around suspiciously as though he expected them to pop out from behind a chair.

"You arrived a few hours earlier than expected. Major Sheppard and Dr. McKay are still off-world." Even as she finished speaking a warning klaxon sounded through the room and Weir nodded in satisfaction to herself. "That's probably them now, shall we?" She gestured to the entranceways to reveal Atlantis' gate room below. It was early morning in the city and the sunlight was filtering through the stained glass from all around, casting an almost magical atmosphere. There was nothing magical about the soldiers that lined the side of the floor below, however, aiming their weapons directly at the Stargate in battle ready stances.

"It's the Colonel's IDC," someone called from her right. Thompkins assessed their actions even as he moved to the edge of the platform overlooking the Stargate, his hand automatically straying to his sidearm before he called himself on the action. Dr.'s Weir and Strat moved to the railing a few feet from him. There was a whooshing sound as the giant ring engaged and a moment later several people stepped though the shimmering water-like wall.

They were dirty, filthy in fact. The large Satedan, whom he recognized from his initial debrief as Ronon Dex, strolled through the gate and lowered his weapon. He was limping slightly and covered in mud from neck to boots and Thompkins heard him actually growl at the soldier nearest to him who apparently couldn't resist smiling. Immediately behind him came a shorter individual who was covered in mud even more completely than his teammate. Lt. Colonel John Sheppard had his weapon already lowered at his side and he flashed a reassuring grin to the men pointing their guns at him, not even asking them to point the weapons in a different direction. Thompkins sight was drawn to his right hand, which had the unmistakable stain of blood soaked into the sleeve. He watched as Sheppard looked up to search for Dr. Weir, and he nodded at Thompkins as he noted his presence. Thompkins nodded back, not missing how the man's entire body stiffened as he took a good look at his two guests.

"Colonel?" Weir asked, not bothering to hide the concern in her voice as she stared down at only two of the four-person team.

"They're coming," he reassured her, and then true to his words Rodney McKay and Teyla Emmagen emerged from the wormhole, only their ankles covered in the mud the other two seemed to be living in. Thompkins barely spared the beautiful woman a glance as his sight zeroed in on McKay.

"I can't believe you pulled me away from my work to go traipsing through the Avocado Jungle of Mud! What a complete and utter waste of time!" He stomped his boot clad feet on the ground, trying to dislodge the small trace of muck from the hem of his pants to no success.

"Report," Weir requested, not moving from her position. Rodney was too busy looking disgustedly at his feet to bother looking up at her request.

"We didn't find any indication of a settlement on the planet. We're assuming the Ancients used it as a means to get to another planet in close proximity," Sheppard reported.

"That or they were investing in a chain of beauty salons," Rodney grumbled.

"People on Earth cover themselves in mud for beauty?" Ronon quirked an eyebrow, clearly amused by the idea.

"It seems to be working wonders for you," Rodney bit back, looking at the much taller, much more physically intimidating man in annoyance. Ronon grinned and casually pulled out a large serrated knife, despite the guns aimed at him, and used it to scrape away the sludge from his forearm. Rodney stared a moment and then apparently decided the safest bet was to aim his attention elsewhere, and he finally looked up to address Dr. Weir.

His mouth opened to speak just as his eyes fell on Dr. Strat and he closed it just as quickly. His piercing blue gaze slid over to rest on Thompkins and Jerry could see the gears in his head turning. Recognition had been instantaneous. Thompkins nodded at him slightly in greeting but made no other move, and Rodney huffed loudly while the surrounding soldiers finally lowered their weapons and began filing away.

"Well," he glared between the three of them before addressing Strat and himself, "it took you people long enough to get here! I've been sitting around for weeks wondering when you'd arrive."

"Dr. McKay, if you could join us in my office please?" Weir asked.

"What?" He actually looked surprised at the suggestion. "Right now? I'm absolutely _covered_ in mud and saturated with who knows how many contagions. My internal organs could be on the verge of shutting down due to an alien virus and there isn't even a decent doctor around to ensure my survival!" The Doctor who had been waiting off on the sidelines with her medical team gave him a rather pinched death glare that McKay either didn't see or didn't care about enough to acknowledge.

"Fine, go to the infirmary and then get cleaned up. I wouldn't want you to get sick from _all_ of that mud," there was a grin in her voice and Thompkins noted that Teyla and Ronon were not holding back their own exasperated smiles as they began heading out, though Ronon's looked more fierce then amused. Sheppard just rolled his eyes. "I'll expect you in my office along with Colonel Sheppard in an hour," Weir relented with an air that suggested she was used to this form of complaint. With that they headed off to the far side of the room to follow the emergency doctor and medics back to the infirmary. Dr. Strat was already complaining that McKay had been expecting their presence and Weir was performing damage control as she assured him that Dr. McKay had _not_ been informed of their imminent arrival. Thompkins stayed where he was, one hand lightly grasping the cool railing as he watched McKay and his crew slowly file out, leaving clumps of mud in their wake.

When they were at the door Rodney paused and turned back, his eyes narrowing as he focused directly on him. He stared a long moment and Thompkins felt as though he could physically see the delicate gears in the great mind work as they assessed, hypothesized and then came to a quick conclusion. McKay nodded to himself, an unconscious gesture, and then pointed his finger directly at Thompkins.

"When this is over," he raised an eyebrow as if daring Thompkins to interrupt, "you owe me a drink. No excuses." Jerry couldn't help the twist of his lips as they pulled into a quick smile before once again schooling his features. He had just been granted an ultimatum, and though he hadn't expected McKay to take his presence personally it had bothered him that it might turn into that. Regardless of the outcome of this investigation they would still have some form of connection and for now, that was good enough for him.

* * * * * * * * * *

It wasn't quite an hour later when McKay and Sheppard finally arrived for the briefing, minus the mud, to find Dr. Weir and their two _guests_ waiting for them.

"I'd like to ask you a few questions, Dr. McKay, but if you'd rather we do this privately…" Strat looked over at McKay with an appraising eye. He was flanked on either side by Lt. Colonel Sheppard and Dr. Weir, and did not appear uncomfortable in their presence. Both looked to McKay for direction though, leaving the decision to stay or to go with him.

"I'd prefer they stay," he bristled. Dr. Strat nodded, and waited as they found seats opposite him. It was the wisest course of action given the investigation and his apparent history with Dr. Greenwall, and one that Strat would have recommended if asked.

"I'm aware that you understand the purpose of my visit here, Dr. McKay." He did his best to ignore the annoyed looks from the other side of the table and glanced down at McKay's files. He'd had to investigate many prominent scientists within the Stargate program, but that experience didn't make his current job any easier, because he hadn't yet had to investigate the one Doctor in the program who was legendary for making his subordinates cry by simultaneously giving them a compliment and an insult.

"I will try not to interfere with the functioning of the city while I conduct interviews, but I should apologize for the inconvenience that this will cause you over the next few weeks. I am well aware of your busy schedules," he rambled off his platitude without looking up.

"Then how about we speed this up, hmmm?" McKay raised an eyebrow at him, one arm on the table while his fingers waved a hurry-up motion in the air as he waited for Dr. Strat to get on with the interview. Dr. Weir placed her hand on his arm briefly, as if to forestall any further animosity. Strat nodded absently, looking over his files and barely registered the huff of annoyance from across the table.

"To be clear then, Major Thompkins is here to investigate some security issues for the SGC, while I investigate your competence as the leader of the Atlantis Science Expedition. Some recent events, both here and on Earth have created causes for concern."

"Let me guess, Dr. Greenwall wouldn't have anything to do with these 'causes for concern' that are suddenly striking fear into the hearts of the International Oversight Advisory, would he?" Strat barely registered the question as he nodded. He had read through McKay's file before, but he continued to be fascinated by the man's achievements. Frankly, it was damn near impossible to escape the Doctor's legend at Area 51, where his irritating attitude and lack of people skills had been overshadowed only by his brilliance. The other scientists might not care for McKay's acerbic style, but references to his work were still littered throughout their research. It was impossible to find a research project that didn't cite at least one of his theories.

"He has brought some concerns to our attention, but rest assured that his actions in Atlantis are still undergoing review and his current place within the program or outside of it has not yet been decided."

McKay stared at him a moment and then shifted his gaze to look at Sheppard and Thompkins, who sat quietly off to the side, before looking back at him.

"What kind of security issues?" Sheppard asked with a pointed look at Thompkins.

"O'Neill has some concerns about McKay's safety given the number of accidents he's had since Greenwall left." Well, that certainly got his attention, Strat thought. "There have been three known high-level security breaches within Atlantis in the last six months and no reason to believe that Caldwell, Greenwall, or Sandburg were acting independently. O'Neill wanted me to either find their accomplices or confirm that these accidents really were accidents."

There was a moment of contemplative silence as the Atlantis team absorbed the new information. "I'll want to go over those reports with you, Major." Sheppard made clear as he watched the Major.

"Of course, sir. There's a lot we still don't know about Greenwall's assignment to Atlantis, but one fact has become glaringly obvious – his placement in Atlantis required some fairly significant political backing. We can't prove it yet, but O'Neill is convinced that he has buddied-up to the Trust, and that this was simply another bid by the Trust to gain control of Atlantis. Both he and Caldwell attempted to detonate a bomb within the city, and-"

"Oh, please. Greenwall is incompetent and an ass, but he isn't suicidal." McKay cut him off, crossing his arms as if to emphasize the point and Thompkins nodded at him.

"Agreed, but since both bombs had the potential to destroy the only gate access to this galaxy, Command is going to make absolutely certain of that. "

"What about Caldwell, can he help?" Weir asked.

"Colonel Caldwell is still undergoing medical treatment for the removal of his Goa'uld symbiote, and his memories of the last four months are sketchy, at best," Thompkins informed them gravely.

"At this point," Strat looked up from his files to gaze solemnly around the room, "it remains unlikely that the Colonel will remember anything of significance in regards to the symbiote's contacts on Earth even after a full recovery. We need to be certain of the security between our two galaxies, and General O'Neill wants to be sure that Dr. McKay is not a new target of the Trust."

"While it's great that O'Neill is concerned about my safety, can we get started here? I'm a busy man, things to do, planets to blow up," he waved his hand around and Strat frowned.

"That is not funny, Dr. McKay."

"You should have seen it from my side," drawled Sheppard quietly. McKay huffed at him, but some of the tension left his shoulders.

"As I mentioned, recent events have caused some concern about your position here in Atlantis. Obviously the incident on Doranda is one of them. Since then, however, there have been several occasions where your lack of insight has led to several dangerous situations." He looked up to see that McKay was no longer fidgeting with his apparently endless energy, but was instead staring at him with a look that was almost capable of killing a man on the spot. It seemed he had hit a bit of a nerve. "I have to ask because I need to get your personal insight into these situations."

"Ask away," came the controlled response.

"Recently, there was an incident that led to Colonel Sheppard being stuck in a time dilation field for six months. Could you tell me how you allowed this to happen, in your own words, please?"

"Right, my own words, because obviously I would speak for someone else in this instance," Rodney glared. "Have you ever been off world, _Doctor_?" The special emphasis on his title annoyed Dr. Strat.

"Yes, several times in fact."

"In a situation where you weren't peeking over the shoulder of a scientist in a controlled environment?" Strat paused a moment before conceding the point.

"No, not in that case."

"Fine, I shouldn't have to remind you that being a part of the first contact team guarantees that my team-mates and I are going to be the first to run into anything truly dangerous. SG-1 practically made a career out of it. That being said, and despite my ample experience and intelligence, there is always room for error. The situation with Sheppard should not have happened, I should have exercised more caution before allowing him to stick his hand in places it doesn't belong. Despite that lapse in judgement, I feel that we did everything we possibly could do to retrieve him and, obviously it worked out in the end."

"So you're saying you do not feel the fault lies with you?"

"No, I'm saying that I should have been more cautious and so should the rest of my team, but in a field where you are continually stepping into the unknown it's very difficult to have control of your environment." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his seat. Dr. Strat watched him before making a few notes and then nodded to himself.

"Very well. What can you tell me about the situation involving the Goa'uld infiltration through Colonel Caldwell?"

"It sucked." Sheppard couldn't control his laugh, and Strat frowned at McKay.

"Dr. McKay, if you are not going to take this situation seriously…"

"I am taking this situation very seriously," he snapped. "But it would help if you asked more specific questions, because my list of concerns about a Goa'uld symbiote in command of the Daedalus could take us into next week. I was answering your question as truthfully as I could." Dr. Strat felt a headache coming on.

"Very well. Do you feel that the situation was handled to the best of your ability?" The leader of Atlantis' science contingents eyes widened slightly and then he glanced at Thompkins as if to confirm he heard it right. Really, it was a perfectly legitimate and, considering the cause for this investigation, reasonable question to ask.

"No, I generally enjoy waiting until the last possible moment to save the day because it builds my self esteem," he huffed. "Of course I did everything in my ability. If you'll recall, the ZedPM was set to explode and the one man with the access codes to override our system had been infected by a Goa'uld. That's not exactly an easy fix! Next question," he barked, clearly irritated as he shook his head and rolled his eyes. McKay checked his watch, pulled his lips into even more of a frown, and looked up expectantly. McKay's attitude was beginning to grate on his nerves and he'd only been in Atlantis for a few hours. Dr. Strat frowned, deciding to humour him for the moment and moved on to the next question

"I apologize if this next question is too personal for you, Dr. McKay…"

"But you're going to ask it anyway so don't bother with the platitudes. What is it?" Fine, if he didn't want him to beat around the bush that was okay with him. It would make this interview go faster so he could move on to more pleasant company.

"You're recent altercation with a previous member of your team, Lieutenant Ford, ended with your subsequent overdose on the Wraith enzyme, correct?"

"Yes." Strat didn't bother to look up from his paper as he felt the glare from the doctor across the desk. He skimmed the report, noting details about the difficult withdrawal and the recovery time. McKay was released from the medical centre shortly after the main symptoms had abated, but he had reported in twice daily until Dr. Beckett felt that it had completely left his system.

"How have you been feeling since then? Are you continuing to speak to Doctor Heightmeyer about the incident?" There was a heavy silence and Major Thompkins shifted in his seat for the first time the entire meeting.

"It is standard procedure to speak to a psychiatrist for a minimum of three months after a traumatic incident that involves the threat of your life or the life of someone close to you," McKay leaned forward. "I've been seeing Dr. Heightmeyer on a regular basis since we arrived in Atlantis and, not that it is _any_ of your business, but I'm feeling fine. I was cleared both medically and psychologically before resuming my full duties in Atlantis."

"I am well aware of that. The reason for our concern, is that this isn't the first time you've been forcibly subjected to narcotics and we need to know whether or not this fact will negatively influence any future decisions you might have to make in your position." He looked up to see that McKay looked as though he had been slapped. Perhaps he had been a little too cold in his last delivery? Despite his arrogance this entire situation must have affected McKay somehow. The Canadian stared at him a moment, his face turning pale and then, alarmingly, it began to get a little red and the man looked over at Thompkins sharply.

"That information was classified!" He snapped at him.

"Yes, it was." There was a dangerous undercurrent in the soldier's tone and Strat found himself shuffling the papers before him as a distraction when four sets of angry eyes focused on him, silently waiting for an answer.

"It _was_ classified. With the newest threats to Stargate security, it was felt that certain cases should be released…under the strictest of authority I assure you," he hastily added at their heated glares.

"Why wasn't _I_ informed of this?" McKay asked very quietly, and for the first time Dr. Strat actually felt nervous to be around this man.

"You were to be informed in this meeting, Dr. McKay. I understand that this may feel as a breach to your privacy but…"

"No, I really don't think you understand how this feels, Doctor," he snarled and stood slowly from his seat. Sheppard and Weir both looked up at the motion, confusion evident on their faces. "That file was classified under orders so deep that even its' existence was classified. I should have been informed the minute that status changed! As for your questions, let me tell you something: I have managed to recover from both instances with the same intelligence, insight and ability to lead as I had before. Will it happen again? With the way our luck seems to be progressing I have to assume so, and when it does I will deal with it in the best way I know how. I expect that the information in classified files will only be seen by parties that need to know." It was a demand disguised as a question and Strat nodded positively because, of course, it was the case. "Fine, then this meeting is over. If you need me for anything else you can contact me, but make sure it's important." And with that he stormed out of the room.

There was a moment of pained silence before Sheppard spoke, his attention clearly divided between the need for answers and the need to follow McKay. He turned his attention to Dr. Weir. "Elizabeth?"

"Go, John. I'd like to ask Dr. Strat a few questions now." Her tone left no doubt that she was irritated with the situation. Sheppard nodded, and then hurried from the room in the wake of McKay's footsteps.

Well, that went well.

"You should have informed me that that information had recently been declassified. We might have been able to avoid that particular explosion if you had," she instructed him.

"Of course, that is painfully obvious in hindsight," he answered, closing the file before him and frowning. He didn't want to be conducting interviews, he wanted to see how McKay and the rest of Atlantis worked. "My apologies, Dr. Weir, I did not intend for this to happen."

"Good. In the meantime, I suggest you give Dr. McKay time to cool down."

"I don't understand why he was so upset. It's not like he was the only one who knew what was in those documents."

"Other people knowing is not why he was upset, Doctor." Thompkins answered sharply, and then left the room to go do…whatever it was that men like him did in situations such as these. Weir frowned at the soldier's response, before turning her attention back to him.

"I'd like to have copies of that file available as soon as possible, Doctor. There are some details I will need to review," she pointed out sadly. As director for the SGC and then the Atlantis expedition, she had been on the need to know list for years. Strat nodded as she left, and then pushed away from the table and stood with a smile on his face, now he could conduct a few interviews on location. It would be a great excuse to see the labs and what everyone was up to.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Earth, Present Day**

Gerald stood silently, watching the man in the room beyond the two-way mirror carefully. He had been waiting for the better part of ten minutes, and despite the fact that the man in the interrogation room had barely moved a muscle or shown any unease as he waited, Gerald could see that he was growing impatient, and this made him smile.

Archibald Greenwall had remained one of the coolest customers the Stargate Program had ever detained throughout all his months as a prisoner of this facility. He had adamantly proclaimed his innocence since his return from Atlantis and his determination had not wavered in the slightest, despite all the evidence that had been piling against him. Then the key witness in his prosecution, Giles Sandburg, had died in his holding cell. It was at that time that Gerald had been assigned to the investigation.

Because Greenwall was smart, and he had been setting up a defense that had the possibility of working in his favor and the SGC, despite the secrecy and specialty of their program, was still bound by the law to give him a fair trial. That didn't mean it would be a public trial, but Greenwall still had the right to one and he was manipulating the system as much as he could. The problem was that he was coming across as very believable, very likeable, and very innocent. It had been his assertion, after his return on the Daedalus, that Dr. McKay was unfit to continue as the leader of the science expedition in Atlantis, and after months of obstinately stating this fact and a few questionable actions on Atlantis, people had begun to speculate and a precautionary investigation had been ordered.

That had pissed Gerald off.

He didn't know Dr. McKay, he hadn't even heard about him until agreeing to take this assignment, but he had been getting to know Greenwall very well and the more he learned about the man, the more he disliked him. Despite his charm and intelligence there was something so patently false about his sincerity, so blatantly sinister about his disposition, that it rubbed Gerald in all the wrong places. After the death of Dr. Sandburg, due to poisoning, he had been asked personally by General O'Neill to take this case, and now there was no way he would give it up.

As he watched the man sit and wait in the hard metal chair they had provided, his cuffed hands resting on the surface of the cold table, Gerald saw his jaw clench and his hands squeeze tightly together and smiled to himself again. Greenwall was not a patient man, not by a long shot, and that impatience was finally beginning to bleed through. It was the only sign Gerald needed to see and he picked up his briefcase and left the viewing room to enter the interrogation room, nodding to the guard outside the door as he crossed the threshold. Greenwall's sharp eyes were on him the moment he stepped into the room, his annoyance clear though he plastered a pleasant smile on his face and nodded a greeting.

"Good morning, Mr. Prince."

"Good afternoon, Dr. Greenwall," he replied blandly. He had made Greenwall wait for over half an hour and was satisfied with the results as the man's eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second before he took control of his emotions once again. Over the last few months he had slowly and methodically been picking at Greenwall's control, discerning the things that annoyed him, that angered him the quickest, and then he had begun to use them against the doctor, slowly so it wouldn't be blatantly obvious. Gerald Prince hadn't been selected for this investigation simply because he was good at his job. O'Neill had asked him to do this because he had the patience and the skill to get the answers they needed from the smartest, most cunning people they came across. Greenwall had been living his life with such tight, rigorous control for so long that simply barging in and demanding that he answer their questions was not going to work.

Gerald put his briefcase on the table and opened it, slowly pulling out a few files. He then pulled out a red pen, a blue pen, a black pen, a small ruler and a bottle of slow drying white-out before closing it and pushing it to the side. Greenwall watched, his eye twitching slightly in annoyance as he was forced to wait even longer for the question and answer session to begin. Gerald clasped his hands together and looked up at him.

"Can I get you anything to drink, Doctor?"

"I'm fine, thank you."

"Are you still claiming innocence in the attempted murder of Dr. McKay?"

"That is correct. I had nothing to do with that accident."

"Okay, I just needed to ask before we continued, procedure and all that," which was true, but also because Greenwall hated repeating himself and Gerald had made him do so twice a week, every week, since he'd been brought in on this investigation.

"Okay then," he looked down at his files. "Let's see, the last time we spoke you told me that the reason you're so adamant about Dr. McKay not being in a position of command is due to his unstable personality?"

"That is correct."

He had spent hours upon hours, sometimes days in a row, going over the files of both McKay and Greenwall, learning what he could about them and, more specifically about Greenwall. In fact, when he had originally started the investigation he had focused solely on Greenwall, which he had learned a month and a half later, was a mistake, because the man's record was spotless. Literally. It was too clean cut, too well organized. There were no official complaints logged, no incident reports, and nothing to suggest any wrongdoing at all within his career.

When he had started to go over McKay's file he had begun to make some connections, but it had taken a lot of digging. The pieces had slowly begun to fall in place for him though, and now he was using that information to try and draw a confession out of Greenwall.

"Forgive me if I don't agree with you there. Every scrap of evidence that I have procured has indicated that Dr. McKay is perhaps the most intelligent man, scientifically speaking, in the entire program." Another way to make Greenwall angry was to bring up McKay's superior intelligence. It didn't fail this time as the man's nostrils flared.

"That may be, but it is a proven fact that people with intelligence at a level as high as his have trouble adjusting to reality."

"Some do, this is true, but there has been no evidence that this is the case with McKay. Fortunately he seems to be very grounded in reality most of the time, which I have to admit is impressive."

"He's not as stable as you believe, he just hides it well. McKay is extremely intelligent, but his intelligence leads him to be overconfident, over focused, to the point where he gets caught within his own mind. We could call it extreme tunnel vision, and I believe Arcturus is a prime example of this. What happens the next time he gets that entangled with one of his pet theories? I'm not denying his intelligence," Greenwall's eye twitched as he said this, "but as a leader I don't think he has the necessary decision making skills. He has cost people their lives. Several times. That is not acceptable."

"I see," Gerald looked down at his pile of files and flipped the one on top open, effectively stopping that argument, which had Greenwall practically grinding his teeth in aggravation. "You went to school with him, did you not?"

"Yes, I did."

"Would I be correct to assume that this is where you first met Dr. McKay?"

"Yes, that is correct."

"So you feel that perhaps you know him better than others, that you have a closer connection, and that this is the basis of your accusations?" Now Greenwall's eyes looked away from his on their own volition and Gerald could see for a brief moment when Greenwall was no longer in this room, but remembering something from his past, before he quickly refocused and agreed with what Gerald said. Whatever he had remembered, it was clear that he was regaining his control and the irritation Gerald had been able to stir within him was being tightly controlled again. Well, that was his cue to leave, because he wasn't going to waste time now that Greenwall had regained his high ground. He abruptly began putting away his things and stood. "Okay, those are all the questions I had for today."

"Really? It's barely been ten minutes."

"I'm well aware of that. Have a good day." He left, feeling the green eyes watching him until he shut the door to the interrogation room. He looked at the guard. "Leave him in there for about an hour, then you can take him back to his cell."

"Yes, sir."

He nodded and left, already planning his next interview. It was going better, now that he was able to break into the man's controlled demeanor. Very soon he would begin dealing with the real reasons for the investigation, and steer towards the answers they needed. However, that didn't stop his own curiosity of the relationship between the two doctors from tickling his mind, and he wondered just what it had been that Greenwall had remembered.

* * * * * * * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * * * * * * * * *

**Earth, 1987**

"Hey, Rodney!" He called out and Rodney abruptly halted his angry steps, forcing the students on the pathway to move around him and simply glaring when they complained. Surprisingly they shut up pretty quickly from the look, going on their way without further comments and for a moment Rodney looked disgustingly pleased with himself before his scowl once again made an appearance as he waited for Archie to catch up to him. Rodney had told him he'd be finishing up around this time, but it was clear he hadn't expected Archie to actually be there to meet up with him. If the angry look was anything to go by things hadn't gone well for the kid, and Archie grimaced in response.

"It didn't go well, then."

"It was a waste of my time, as if I have a lot to spare," Rodney huffed and set out on his driven pace again. "Those moron's wouldn't know an athlete if they were tackled by one."

"Or in this case, drowned by one," Archie supplied.

"My times were way better than some of the idiots they let on the team! What the hell kind of excuse is 'you're breast stroke isn't strong enough?' Of course it wasn't, I do freestyle and fly. What, they want me to specialize in each stroke now? That's ridiculous, I barely have time to sleep and practice as it is," Rodney dropped his flailing arms to his side and sighed in annoyance.

"Didn't you say that the captain this year is Cleveland?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that pretty much tells you why you didn't make the team then," Archie decided and squeezed Rodney's shoulder in support. The kid wasn't taking this too well, and though Archie couldn't relate, since he'd never had difficulty getting onto the teams he wanted, he knew that Rodney had really set his hopes to joining the varsity swim team. Personally Archie couldn't fathom why, unless it was for the women in Speedos, but as far as he knew Rodney had been training all summer around his time in the lab. The fact that he had been refused a place on the team the year before on the basis of his age made this even more disappointing for him. He would be impossible to deal with for the next few days.

Rodney looked at him then, startled, and Archie resisted the urge to roll his eyes and scoff. Honestly, the kid was so dense sometimes, despite his abnormal brilliance.

"What? What does Cleveland have to do with this?"

"Rodney, you marked his physics paper last week."

"Yeah, so, I marked a ton of papers last week."

"That paper was weighted for sixty percent of the final grade and you failed him on it."

"Well, if I did then he deserved it, you wouldn't believe some of the crap people tried to get away with," Rodney automatically defended himself and then he looked at Archie in shock. "They didn't let me on the team because he's upset about doing badly? Oh my god, that is so unfair!" He abruptly stopped and turned around, heading back towards the pool and Archie had to twist sharply and run a few steps to catch up before grabbing the kid's shoulder. Rodney wasn't particularly tall and he was still lanky and awkward, not quite grown into his body yet, but he was a fast bugger when he was focused. Right now he was angry as hell and he glared at Archie indignantly, and yeah, Archie could see why he'd be so upset about this, but he didn't have time for Rodney to run around and verbally demolish the entire team before focusing his vengeance on having every staff member in the building fired. He had a paper due the next day and he'd barely started it. He needed to get Rodney's mind focused back on him, a friend in need. He put on his most apologetic and angry face and stared back at Rodney, not letting go of his arm.

"Rodney, I know you're beyond pissed right now, but ruining every other persons chance to be on the team isn't the way to go about it. This is between you, Cleveland, and the coaches, not the team." He could tell he wasn't really getting through to him when Rodney lifted an eyebrow and gave him his patented 'and I care because' look. It was a look that irritated the hell out of Archie, but he ignored it because he had bigger goals in mind that couldn't be ruined just because he disliked the twirp standing before him.

"Okay, fine, then think about it this way: you're a year away from your first PhD and you've only been here two years-"

"And I'd probably have two PhD's by now if they didn't insist that I follow at least some of the official curriculum. At this rate I'll be here another four years." Archie refused to grind his teeth at the petulant tone. The reason they were trying to slow Rodney down, and Rodney was well aware of the fact, was because of what he could bring to the university. They wanted to reap the benefits of what he would discover, of the papers he would publish and the name he was already creating for himself. Hell, he was only seventeen and he had already been provided with his own lab…well, a shared lab with several other students and professors who had been around for _years_ already, but his own space in the high-tech area regardless. Archie would kill to be given that space, and he was still applying for it, hoping that he would be given his grants for his own research to begin by the next year. He was a very smart guy, well ahead of most of his classmates, but compared to McKay he still had a long way to go. He was working on getting Rodney to help squeeze him in.

"Despite that, you are in a league of your own and everyone knows it. Let Cleveland have his revenge, because we all know that you're the one who's going to come out on top in the end."

"That's not the point; I should be on the team, I earned my place there, and they're acting like children. It's just as pathetic as every other team I ever tried to join, the jealous morons."

"Yes, they are. Are you going to drop to that level, or are we going to let bygones be bygones and simply shove your brilliance in their faces later?" Rodney looked towards the pool, his expression a mixture of longing, disappointment and anger. If there was one thing about Rodney that fascinated Archie more than his brains, it was his ability to change moods at the drop of a dime and how every one of his emotions was blatantly apparent. He had never met anyone so unable to hide his feelings, and it was intriguing. Archie spent so much time controlling his emotions and projecting what he wanted people to see, that simply watching Rodney hurt his mind at times. And as he watched the teenager now he could see that his reasoning was working. Good.

"Fine," Rodney announced suddenly and turned away from the pool. "This doesn't mean I'm going to just drop it though. If Cleveland thinks I'm going to walk away from this then he's wrong." Archie didn't doubt that, but he knew that Rodney would focus his anger around yelling and public insults to Cleveland's lineage dating back to the Stone Age. Rodney was the teaching assistant for two of his classes; he should have been threatening his grade instead of his bloodline. But Rodney wasn't Archie, and while he had an amazingly complicated brain, his social dealings were rather linear and uncreative.

"Come on, I'll drive you to your lab," Archie shook his keys lightly so they jingled, and Rodney looked at him and smiled that stupid, happy-go-lucky grin of his that he rarely showed to anyone.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"No really, I mean it. You're a good friend, the best one I have actually, and uh, well…I just wanted you to know that." _Oh Lord, cue soppy music now,_ Archie thought as he looked down into Rodney's blue eyes and smiled warmly.

"Well then, seeing as we're such good friends, you can thank me properly by helping me with the Littlemon essay," Rodney laughed and his grin turned into true amusement.

"You haven't finished that yet? Didn't that paper by Jerry Cheung help you out at all?" and they were off, Rodney spewing forth on things that he should consider for his work and Archie smiled smugly to himself as he unlocked his car. Most people had decided that Rodney was an annoying know-it-all, but they didn't have the capacity to realize that the kid was genuinely trying to help them out, not show off, and they sure as hell didn't have the foresight to use it to their advantage. He had and he did, and if that didn't make him the second smartest man in this university he didn't know what would.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

_`Twack! Thwak, Thwak, Twack Thump!_

"Ow!" Rodney yelled and immediately dropped the stick in his right hand to rub at his left shoulder.

_Thump!_

"Ow! Teyla! I'm unarmed here!" He now rubbed his right arm where she had mercilessly continued her assault with her sparring sticks. Both of Rodney's lay on the ground by his feet now and he looked at her to see that she was calmly watching him with her weapons lowered to her sides. Oh, thank god! Did he ever not need more of a beating right now and he glared at her to prove his point. She didn't seem bothered by it and that annoyed him even more.

"You have done well today, Rodney. The practice is paying off."

"If by practice you mean our weekly sessions and my willingness to let you beat me with sticks then I'd have to say I disagree."

"Why?"

"I feel just as bruised this week as I did last week," he huffed, annoyed with his inability to defend himself against her attacks, even though he knew she was only trying to help him. They had begun these weekly sparring sessions a few months before because Teyla had felt they needed to spend more time together outside of missions. Apparently this was the most productive way. The only reason he hadn't called a halt to it right after it began was because he couldn't bear to hurt her feelings that way. And he knew, no matter what she would say to him otherwise, that she would be hurt that he didn't want to participate with her.

Curse his inability to say no to a good friend, and the fact that, despite his near continuous complaining, he had actually grown to look forward to their time together. Well, not the part where he was beaten to the ground, which was always a given, but simply spending time with her. That and it was a good way to relieve stress, something he was very familiar with…stress that is, not being beaten. Although that had become somewhat of a commonality in this galaxy too, now that he thought about it.

"You are forgetting that every week I am pushing you harder than the last. You should be proud of your accomplishments; most of the scientists in Atlantis only participate in defensive training because you order them to."

"Yes, well, the better to protect my team and all that," he turned away from her to hide his embarrassment at the compliment and grabbed their water bottles, passing hers over before taking a drink of his own.

"We have noticed and appreciate your efforts. Ronon has been contemplating teaching you the art of throwing knives," she smirked as he choked on his water. Ronon coming anywhere near him with knives, whether to teach him how to use them or not, wasn't something he was too enthusiastic about. Although, having his staff know that he was capable of pinning a fly to the wall from across the room with a mere flick of his wrist did seem appealing…

"Really?" She simply nodded, her grin growing wider. He huffed, "Right, well, I doubt that I would be able to learn it anyway, I mean knife throwing? The next thing I know people will want me to juggle fire while building a ZedPM with my toes. It's just not going to happen.

"I have full faith in you to succeed in whatever you apply yourself to."

"Well, uh, thank you. That's very nice…" he squirmed under the praise. Really, what was with all the compliments today? It's not like he'd been overly nice to her or anything this week…in fact, he distinctly remembered calling her a couple of names when she practically forced him to have a cup of juice instead of coffee at the last team meeting. Nobody gets between him and his coffee…except Teyla apparently because he had ended up with a cup of apple juice instead of his black heaven. Yep, he'd used some pretty strong words that day in regards to her…maybe he should say something nice now as well, seeing as she was being so…encouraging. Great! What was he going to say?

"You do things well to…you know, with the guns and the fighting thing…I particularly enjoy it when you beat the marines into submissive mush, that's always fun…" _Moron_, but she was smiling broadly now so he figured he'd said something right. Well, his job was done then. He nodded to himself and turned to grab his towel and handed hers over as well.

"Thank you."

"Yeah well, don't let it go to your head or anything."

"I meant for the towel." What?

"Oh, right. Well, we're good for the week then? I can go back to work now?"

"You may wish to shower first," she looked pointedly at his sweat soaked gym clothes and then back up to meet his eyes.

"Well, of course, though if I went to the lab like this people probably wouldn't want to get too close due to the smell factor. I could get a lot more work done that way."

They walked in comfortable silence a moment, heading towards their rooms, and he waited for her to ask the questions that he knew she had been trying to figure out how to ask their entire session. While they spoke during the actual training, Rodney usually found that concentrating on blocking was a better use of his energy than verbal banter. Of course, he was usually out of breath within the first fifteen minutes anyway and had to struggle through the next half hour. Why did he enjoy it again?

"How are you doing, Rodney?"

"Fine, fine. I mean, you have heard about the mission we're going on in two days right? How could I be anything but fine!"

"I was more concerned as to your feelings about the investigation."

"Oh, right." He shrugged, not really knowing what she wanted to hear. He wouldn't lie to her, because he respected her too much for that, but talk about his emotions? Not something he was very good at. "I'm good. It's not like I haven't been through this before."

"I don't think being through it before makes it any easier."

"No, it doesn't," he sighed. "If anything it's harder this time around," he found himself admitting for the first time and cringed at the way it sounded. Seriously, this is why men didn't have gushy talks about their feelings, they just ended up sounding stupid. But when he felt her hand on his arm he looked over, startled to see the compassion in her eyes.

"You have family here, friends." She seemed to know exactly what he was thinking about and he nodded in agreement, not wanting to say any more on the subject. Really, what more was there to say? The last thing he wanted to admit out loud was that he had had to move to a completely new galaxy to find the first place he had ever truly considered home. She seemed to understand that though, judging by the warmth in her eyes and the understanding that was transferred to him by the simple touch of her hand on his arm.

"And the investigation into Greenwall's actions? How are they progressing?" she asked and he shrugged.

"I don't really know. Major Thompkins and I haven't really spoken about it."

"They would not actually let him get away after the actions he took against you?" she sounded offended by the very thought and he couldn't help the bitter smirk that graced his lips as he continued to look ahead of them.

"I wouldn't be so certain of that. Greenwall has an uncanny ability to completely screw a person over when he puts his mind to it, and an even better ability to get away with it."

"There is strong evidence against him," she sounded so confident and he snorted, shaking his head negatively.

"There usually is." There was a long moment of silence as they approached their rooms, and Rodney could see his at the end of the hall. He didn't want to talk about this anymore, but he could sense she wanted to know more.

"I met him at school, we were in the same classes." He finally declared as they reached his door and he opened it, feeling guilty that he just couldn't open himself up and tell her. She was his friend, and he should be able to let her know things about him, but every time he tried he just stopped himself. Maybe one day, but as he looked at her now he knew that day wouldn't be today. She smiled softly at him and nodded her head in apparent understanding without him even having to say a word. The relief he felt was almost embarrassing, and he felt he should give her something in return for trying to help him with his problems.

He bowed his forehead to hers and Teyla, without hesitation, touched her forehead to his gently.

"You are a good friend, Teyla."

"As are you," she replied and they pulled apart, her smiling at him. How he had ever ended up with such a beautiful friend…beautiful in her soul that is, not that she wasn't attractive though, because she was, she really, really was, but that wasn't why he liked her. He'd known lots of beautiful women, but there were very few who had been truly beautiful.

He watched her walk down the hall and then quickly turned into his quarters, suddenly embarrassed by the depth of his thoughts. That was enough of that sentimental crap for the day. He needed a shower, food, and then he had to get back to work, and it was most definitely happening in that order.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Do I look like I care who did most of the work?" Rodney glared at the pair of scientists, noting that Dr. Sauder was turning an unhealthy shade of red as she glared at Dr. Keagan. Keagan had dragged her in front of him to demand that he be given more credit for the joint project they had been working on for the better part of two weeks. Keagan looked even more annoyed than Ashley did, but he halted his tirade when Rodney looked at him. It had been a rhetorical question, after all.

"You were placed on this project because the two of you are the most competent for the job. I had thought that you could work it out together, but apparently some people prefer to act as solo artists," he glared at Dr. Keagan again. "You are working on alien technology in another galaxy, Dr. Keagan, and let me repeat that in case you didn't understand me the first time, _alien technology in another galaxy_, and you're actually whining like a five year old about how much credit you think you deserve? I know exactly how much of an effort my people put into their work and I give full credit to those who deserve it. But I really don't care who stayed up later to work on this as long as the report that lands on my laptop is correct, efficient and actually worth my time to read." He ground his jaw at Keagan, who was beginning to lose his look of self-righteousness.

"Most of this work is so highly classified that it will not be recognized for years, possibly even decades, among the high and almighty academic or scientific populations on Earth, most of whom, I should add, I don't really care for to begin with. So, you will deal with this issue yourselves. Duke it out over a game of snap, drink each other under the table, hell, have a mud wrestling match for all I care, but do it on your own time so that you're not wasting mine!" He glared at them both, ignoring Dr. Sauder's blatant eye roll at his last comment. She cringed slightly when he levelled his glare at her because, despite this argument not being her idea, it was her problem and it had ended up in his lap when he had much more important things to deal with. She turned and headed back to the lab they were using for this project and Keagan, after opening and closing his mouth like a landed fish a few times, turned and followed her.

"Did you enjoy that?" He turned to Zelenka, who was working under the console a few feet from them. The Czech's frazzled head, complete with glasses, popped up from around the station and he grinned lopsidedly.

"Very much, I feel I learn more every day I work with you."

"You're a better man for it," Rodney agreed. "Make a note that Keagan should be kept on solo projects in the near future; the really good ones that everyone keeps lining up for." Radek snorted and disappeared back under his work, but the glint in his eyes told Rodney he already had the perfect projects in mind to help adjust Keagan's attitude problem. After all, Rodney couldn't have people on his staff that couldn't work together when necessary and as chief scientist, it was his duty to help his people grow as individuals. It was all about leadership, and he had it in abundance.

Without another word he left the lab and headed at his normal brisk pace to the gateroom. SGA-5 was due back momentarily, and he wanted to see what they had managed to dig up around the temples they had found on P3X-PR1. SGA-5 were notorious for bringing back really nifty life threatening devices, but Dr. Kwong had so far proven to be worth his PhD, as he hadn't yet brought any activated treats through the gate. Rodney was still having flashbacks to the time that Greenwall had brought the terrabomb through the gate and tried to kill them all.

"Who stole your wheaties this morning, McKay?" Sheppard asked as he materialized beside him from seemingly out of nowhere. Rodney glared at him, not because he was annoyed but for of the principal of the action.

"I'm sorry, we seem to have skipped a few important conversation starters there, such as the subject."

"You're marching around like Stormin' Normin and scaring my marines."

"If they're scared of me, then you're not doing your job very well."

"If they're _not_ scared of you, then I'm not doing my job very well."

"You know, I might actually have to agree with you there. I can be a very intimidating man when I want to be." He grinned smugly to himself as a few choice memories came to the forefront of his mind. He didn't need Sheppard to help him intimidate the soldiers, not by a long shot, but it was rather fun knowing that the Colonel enjoyed it as much as he did. They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Rodney could sense that Sheppard was just giving him a few moments of peace before he began his not so subtle interrogation. Yesterday the Colonel had followed him out of that oh so insightful briefing, but he hadn't actually asked any questions and Rodney hadn't volunteered anything before he quickly disappeared into his research for the rest of the day. He was actually surprised that the man hadn't tried to find him before now, as it implied a level of restraint he didn't normally associate with the soldier.

"So, how's the investigation going?" Sheppard suddenly asked, avoiding eye contact and bouncing his steps a little to try and make the conversation appear more casual than it was. Rodney snorted at the man's antics. He wasn't used to people caring about his feelings, and it still made him uncomfortable.

"Oh you know, last night we all got together and bonded over a good pot of Athosian tea. Strat promised to report only my best qualities."

"That never worked for me back on Earth."

"It's all in the blend you use."

"I see that you don't need to use any tea with Major Thompkins."

"He prefers a good Moosehead." He really wasn't in the mood to discuss the investigation, and Rodney wasn't sure if he should be annoyed by his friend's tenacity or worried that it might pay off. "Major Thompkins and I have a bit of history, but he'll do his job regardless of any personal feelings, as I fully expect him to. If he didn't, I wouldn't have bothered associating with him in the first place."

"So, you're friends, but-"

"Friendship isn't the term I'd use."

"Then what would you-"

"Some things are none of your business, Colonel," he snapped suddenly, not knowing where the slight hostility had come from but unable to contain it, and then felt ashamed as Sheppard's posture stiffened from friendly casual to closed off in a second. Damn it! There were some things he just didn't want people to know about him, and dealing with people when you actually cared about their feelings and opinions was such a pain in the ass! Rodney scrambled around his brain for something to say that could fix his angry outburst. Sheppard hadn't been questioning him as the head of Atlantis, but as his friend and sometimes Rodney had trouble discerning the difference.

"Look, Colonel. John, I uhhh, what I mean to say is…look, some things are just not…" _Oh, just say you're sorry for snapping at him, you moron!_ Rodney looked over at him and was startled to find the dark haired man grinning at him, and it was one of those stupid grins too, the ones where he really meant it and wasn't just putting on a show for people. Sheppard reached over and slapped his shoulder.

"Don't worry about it, Rodney, I know that beneath that tough, arrogant, asshole-ish exterior you're really a fun-loving marshmallow. You can tell me about Thompkins some other time." John Sheppard could change his emotions faster than a strobe-light, but despite his apparent ease with their conversation, Rodney could sense that John wasn't eager to let him keep his secrets.

"I think you've actually managed to make me nauseous, Colonel," he snapped as they entered the gate room and then stormed off to see what Dr. Kwong had discovered. It was with a sharp stab of annoyance that Dr. Strat suddenly appeared beside him and Sheppard moved off to speak with his soldiers.

"Good morning, Dr. McKay."

"It will be if nothing tries to kill us before lunch," he responded, speeding up his pace to get to his destination. Dr. Strat, tenacious little man that he was turning out to be, kept pace easily.

"I highly doubt Dr. Kwong would bring anything harmful back through the gate."

"I do as well, but as you reminded us so eloquently, it wasn't that long ago that an activated terrabomb came through the gate." He tried really hard to keep his annoyance out of his voice, but wasn't sure if he succeeded. He stopped in front of Dr. Kwong and the doctor looked a moment between Rodney and his tag along before launching into his report.

Rodney liked Dr. Kwong, he was a smart man and had a practical head on his shoulders. He had a great staff for the most part, but most of them couldn't be sent off world without a full platoon of soldiers to make sure they came back unharmed. As he and Dr. Kwong went over a quick detailing of what was found at the ruins, or not found much to both of their disappointments, Rodney felt the weight of people's eyes on his back from several areas around the room. He was used to working with people assessing his every move, and was therefore mostly able to ignore Dr. Strat as long as he didn't butt into the conversation. Having people acutely interested in the fact that Rodney was being watched so carefully, however, annoyed him. He looked around several times to glare at people, but he could never tell which ones were trying to eavesdrop. He hated it when people didn't concentrate on their work.

In the end, he and Kwong decided that the things his team discovered on P3X-PR1 would ultimately be studied by the archaeologists and anthropologists and that Kwong could go back to his work when Cadross suddenly materialized beside them, making Strat and Kwong jump in surprise. Rodney simply glared at the projection for interrupting their conversation, until he remembered that he had sent Cadross to watch Dr. Harkson's team while they were exploring some uncharted areas in the bowels of Atlantis.

"They have discovered what appears to be a ship bay for water submersible vehicles." Cadross informed him immediately, not even waiting for a demand from Rodney to know what was going on. Rodney didn't waste another second as he activated his headset.

"Harkson, stop whatever you're doing and tell me what's going on right now," he demanded. He listened for a few intense moments as the man stuttered out an explanation. Sheppard joined their group a moment later as Rodney finished his conversation with orders for the team to halt their exploration and wait for his arrival.

"So, this is it?" Sheppard asked, his eyes gleaming slightly in anticipation, as soon as Rodney finished giving Harkson orders.

"It would appear so, Colonel."

"Cool."

"I'm sorry, but would you care to explain to me what is going on?" Dr. Strat requested politely, not seeming at all upset about being left out of the group. Rodney, who was already walking away, stopped and looked back at the two men with an impatient glare, John at his side.

"Are you coming? I'll explain on the way," Sheppard grinned to himself as Kwong and Strat jumped and then rushed to join them as Rodney led the way towards the nearest lift. Sheppard, of course, already knew what was going on since Major Lorne had contacted him only moments before Cadross had appeared to interrupt Rodney's assessment of Dr. Kwong's finds.

Since their arrival in Atlantis and the subsequent search for supplies, and allies, there hadn't been much time to explore the city itself. Rodney's scientists had insisted there were greater discoveries to be found, but simple survival had forced the majority of their resources to be focused through the stargate. Still, Rodney had assigned three scientists to perform a careful study of the city's database, hoping to find something they could use against the wraith. It was during the mad scramble just prior to the siege that they had found hints of a submersible vehicle, which McKay had been insisting existed since they arrived in Atlantis.

Rodney hadn't been able to justify the expenditure then; the exploration of Lantia's oceans hadn't been deemed mission critical, and there simply hadn't been enough trained personnel to spare for an extended exploration of the city, even with the renewed contact from Earth. So the search for the submersible vehicles had been tabled, but that had changed after Griffin died, and ignited a new drive in the Canadian to find the Ancient's underwater vehicles. The submersibles wouldn't have saved Griffin, but they would have made Rodney's rescue at the bottom of the ocean much simpler. Frankly, after that incident, Sheppard would have insisted on finding the submersibles in the large city, even if he had to send teams room to room.

McKay had been pushing his teams hard to find this, and he was glad it was paying off. Maybe it would mean that the man could finally find some closure about the incident because, even though he hid it well, Sheppard knew it was always sitting at the back of the scientist's mind. Now it was just a matter of seeing what all the hard work had amounted to. According to Lorne, the bay was 'in need of a good garage sale,' but other than that their find was impressive. Apparently Harkson, the lone scientist with the group of marines, had begun drooling the moment the lights came on.

Rodney explained all of this as the group stormed down the corridor. Moments after leaving the closet taxi Rodney led them through corridors that Sheppard knew for a fact he had never been to. The pilot kept half of his attention on their surroundings, learning what he could from them and the rest of his attention on the conversation. It wasn't long before the simply inquisitive tone in Strat's voice changed, and John switched most of his attention back to the conversation.

"So, you sent your mobile hologram to keep tabs on Dr. Harkson." It hadn't been a question, and his tone made it sound like an accusation.

"Of course I did," Rodney responded, waving a hand around in exasperation and glancing in annoyance at the mouse haired doctor.

"So, you don't trust him." _Ohh boy,_ Sheppard thought, getting ready for a verbal explosion of some kind or another. Kwong took a cautious step to the left, separating himself slightly from the group in case Rodney became really involved and a limb flailed too far. Rodney looked right down his nose at Dr. Strat, his eyebrows raised in his classic 'you must be the biggest moron ever' look and then snorted in derision.

"Of course I trust him! Do you think I'd send a team out with an individual that wasn't fully qualified to do his job? Dr. Harkson is a brilliant engineer and diagnostician with a rather disturbing acuteness for locating all of the best finds in this city." He jabbed a finger in the air to make his point and his stride lengthened as his irritation showed. "Not only is he fully capable of being on a city exploration team, but he also has a background in mountaineering and spelunking, not to mention a better than average training in first aid." Dr. Strat looked at Sheppard in shock at the way he was being addressed as Rodney rambled off Harkson's qualifications. Sheppard just grinned and then kept his gaze on the pathway before them.

"Then why did you send Cadross with him?"

"Because Harkson, despite the decent head on his shoulders, gets caught up in new discoveries and has a tendency not to inform me of an important find until five minutes after the fact. I am not going to be informed of such finds five minutes later by the military, no offence Colonel."

"None taken."

"Cadross simply allows me to make sure Harkson doesn't forget himself and get too carried away before the area can be properly assessed."

"I see. And your mobile messenger is still with the search team?"

"Yes, yes, yes, he's still there. He plugged himself into a relay port and had the holographic projectors in the ceiling of the gateroom produce his image. If Lorne is smart, a notion I'm still undecided about, then he would have Cadross check the area out for stability before allowing any further exploration. Ah, here we are," he exclaimed as they came around a bend to see a guard posted at an open door at the other end of the corridor.

The group fell silent and Rodney headed straight to Harkson, the two doctors following him, and began an animated conversation about the console the scientist had begun work at. The excitement on their faces reminded Sheppard of kids in a toy store, and he always worried when they got that gleam in their eyes.

He went and stood next to Lorne, who was looking around with alert interest. Dr. Weir would expect them to report in before dinner, which was just over five hours away. John had informed her of the situation as they left the gate room, because he knew that Rodney, much like Harkson, sometimes forgot the little details like obtaining permission from the big boss before letting the excitement of discovery get to him.

"Sir," Lorne greeted.

"Major," he nodded. They stood in silence for a minute.

"It's going to be a long afternoon." Lorne stated, looking over at the group of men who were waving their arms around.

"Zelenka, get down here and bring Miko with you…and Dr. Keagan," Rodney said the last name with a bit of annoyed reluctance. Soon this control room would be swarming with blue shirts and he noted that Dr. Strat was already being squeezed out of the way. Was that a cold shoulder Harkson had just shoved in his face? Interesting.

"Yep, a looong afternoon," Sheppard replied, watching the group across the way.

"Won't be long now," Lorne intoned

"Brace yourself," Sheppard warned, doing a silent count down in his mind.

"Major!" "Colonel" Both McKay and Harkson yelled simultaneously across the relatively large room, but it was Rodney who finished their demands with "don't just stand there mimicking statues, come make yourselves useful." They shared a look and rolled their eyes even as they each moved to their respective scientist. As John approached he was able to cast a look out through the large door that had been blocked by the band of scientists before and got his first glimpse of the bay beyond.

It was massive, and filled with a hell of a lot of things that John couldn't even begin to identify. Except for the vehicles, which were just…

"Nifty," he speculated, and Rodney looked at him with a delighted grin despite his next words.

"Nifty? Who says nifty? Grow up and come help me. The sooner we get this place properly assessed the sooner we can find you some toys to play with." And that was something John was only too willing to help with.

* * * * * * * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

* * * * * * * * * *

**Earth, 1990**

Make...The Pounding...Stop. Pleeeeasssse… Rodney groaned, long and loud, as the light from his windows filtered into his room and across his sprawled body, slowly forcing him from his deep slumber. He had the worst headache…no wait, it was a hangover. He had the worst hangover in the entire history of hangovers, the fact that he'd never had a hangover before not withstanding. Oh, but this was _painful_! Why would anybody willingly subject himself to such torture on a weekly basis? He had been tipsy before this, on one or two occasions, but never before had he drunk with such abandon and, judging by the way he felt, he never would again. He needed his brain cells, even if he was the only one this side of the planet with any to spare.

Reluctantly, he forced himself to wake up and acknowledge the grit in his eyes and taste of dirty socks that coated his entire mouth with the worst state of morning breath he had ever experienced. Slowly, with the coordination of a dizzy puppy, he reached a hand out and snagged the glass of water that sat on his night stand from two nights before and guzzled it down. It tasted like pure heaven, but it didn't do anything for the fuzzy pounding that encompassed his entire head.

Just exactly how the hell had he managed to fall into this state anyway? He rubbed at his eyes and then shoved his too long brown hair out of them. He'd been meaning to get it cut for weeks now, but he had been working on the final stages of his thesis and had never made an appointment. Oh wait, that's right…with a small grin breaking out on his lips he stretched beneath his sheets. Archie had taken him out last night, courtesy of a fake ID, to celebrate the completion of his paper (four days early at that), the one that was going to break him into the world of astrophysics once and for all. He was nineteen and this thesis was the ground work for the PhD he'd be striving for next. It was a beauty, and it was finished, and they had celebrated. Man, had they celebrated.

He could honestly say the previous night wasn't of the form of entertainment he was used to or usually cared to partake in, but Archie had been adamant that they hit the bars and who was Rodney to turn down his best friend's attempts at celebrating _for_ him. It's not like anyone else would…but in the end it turned out someone else had. Glancing down his naked chest to the blankets pooled loosely around his waist, his grin grew. There was nobody in his bed now, but there had been, and she had been everything he thought his first time would be like. God did he love red heads, and she had been wonderful, just perfect. He was a bit disappointed that she hadn't stuck around, maybe make another go of it, but he had understood that it was just a one night thing and frankly he wasn't going to complain. Not in the least.

Properly awake now he took notice of the sun streaming through his open curtains for the first time, and then he frowned. His window was southwest facing, so for sunlight actually be flooding into his room like that it had to be at least…he looked at the alarm clock that sat beside the now empty glass of water. 3:23 in the afternoon. His eyes widened. He'd lost an entire day! How the hell had he slept so damn late? He'd never slept that long in his entire life, despite the fact that he really couldn't recall what time he'd left the bar. He shoved his blankets aside and leapt to his feet, only to sit back down heavily as blackness edged his vision from standing up so fast. His next effort was more controlled and he stumbled, with dignity, to the washroom attached to his bedroom.

A short but reviving shower later had him feeling ten times better, despite the continuous pounding in his head and the minor bouts of nausea that kept creeping up on him and he sauntered back into his room. His bedroom door was wide open but he had no worry about privacy as he lived alone in his apartment. He had moved from his aunt's house two years before, after finally receiving enough scholarship funds to escape that hell and slowly begin to gain complete freedom from his family. His parents had called him once the first Christmas he was here but had forgotten this last time around, and Rodney had barely noticed. Regardless, living alone had been the greatest decision of his life.

Now, however, he was running late as he had planned on submitting his thesis this afternoon so he could have it out of his way and focus on other things. Quickly pulling on his clothes he contemplated stopping for food on his way to school or simply making toast here and hope that it would settle in his stomach. He briefly wondered how much of the alcohol he'd consumed had affected his sugar levels, but as he didn't feel too bad he figured he was fine. He decided on toast.

Munching on the lightly buttered bread he went back into his room, swung his school pack onto his desk and made to place his thesis within its safety, and then he frowned. He could have sworn he left the inch thick, black spiral-bound document right on his desk. Looking around he frowned as he didn't see it anywhere on top, so he decided to check underneath as it was possible it had been knocked off. He only had flashes of memories from the night before, but he did remember that their path to the bed hadn't been linear. He grinned as he bent to his hands and knees, shoving the chair out of his way and looked underneath the table. It wasn't there either.

The smile disappeared. He searched around and under his dresser and bed next, before heading into his small living area and kitchen. There wasn't much by way of furniture other than a table, some chairs and a couch. He didn't have the time for TV and as he spent such a small amount of time actually at his apartment he had never felt the need to properly decorate. It wasn't there either. He wasn't panicking, but he was confused as hell. He wasn't absent minded, far from it, and this was annoying the hell out of him. Well, whatever, he wasn't going to waste time searching for it anymore. Obviously he had misplaced it due to his escapades the night before.

He went to his computer and booted the boxy thing up, waiting impatiently as it beeped to life. The thing was always so damn slow and if he'd had time he would have fixed that, but as he was always busy it had never happened. While he waited he shoved more blank paper in the printer, thankful he actually had his own so he wouldn't have to go and use one of the schools. He didn't bother taking a seat as he opened the program he'd typed his thesis in and then went to open his thesis, and he frowned. This time his stomach churned uncomfortably as he searched through his files and couldn't find the one he wanted. Well, fine, he'd had the foresight to save his work to a floppy disk as well. He opened his desk drawer and searched through the few black disks that resided there. He couldn't find it. The churning in his stomach turned into a heavy knot and his attempt at calm went right out the window.

He spent the next hour tearing his apartment apart, frantically searching for his work, but he couldn't find any trace of it. Without another thought he grabbed his bag and, barely remembering to lock his door, left to find Archie. He'd know what to do.

Twenty-five minutes later found him pounding on his closest friend's door, the music blaring from inside the house grating on his last nerves as he waited impatiently for Archie or one of his housemates to answer. It didn't take long.

"I need to see Archie," he demanded, forestalling any greeting and the football jock that answered barely acknowledged him as he shut the door in his face. If Rodney hadn't been used to the treatment from this particular group of Archie's friends he would have been insulted. At that moment he really didn't give a rats ass: his paper was missing and he didn't know what the hell was going on! When the door opened his dark haired friend stepped out and then closed it, a frown on his face.

"What's up?"

"The red head, the one you introduced me to last night-"

"What about her?"

"I need to find her, and fast! She stole my thesis! It's the only possible explanation for its disappearance!"

"Whoa, slow down a second, Rodney. She took your thesis?" He looked incredulously down at him.

"She must have. I woke up and it was gone. Everything is gone! My disks, the hard copy on my computer, the thesis itself! Those were the only back-ups I had and she took them all!" He paced back and forth on the front porch worry etched all over his face. "I need it back, you have to help me," and he might have come across as a bit desperate, but Archie would understand. Hell, his friend was just finishing up his first Master's thesis himself; he knew how much work went into it. This was Rodney's second Master's degree at stake here!

"Actually, I don't," Archie's calm reply stopped Rodney mid-rant and he turned wide, incredulous blue eyes on the man.

"What? What do you mean you don't? You're the one who introduced me to her in the first place!"

"If you can't keep track of your personal belongings that's not my problem Rodney, it's yours, and you're going to have to deal with it yourself." The words were like a slap to the face. What the hell? Seriously, what the hell! Archie had never spoken to him like that before, with such coldness and something he thought might have been anger?

"If I can't keep track…she STOLE it from me! Everything! What the hell is the matter with you?" He just couldn't believe that Archie could be like this! He was supposed to be his best friend, but Rodney stilled suddenly, his waving arms dropping to his side, his breaths heavy from his mad dash to get here, and he looked at Archie. The older man was staring at him silently, as if waiting for him to connect the dots. There was no warmth on his face, not even a scrap of the friendliness that Rodney had become so familiar with over the last three years. He swallowed thickly, not wanting to believe what Archie seemed to be waiting for him to understand. His heavy breathing was no longer just the result of his run.

"You…Archie, she stole it from me for you?" The concept was too absurd; it must be some kind of joke. Yes, a joke! Oh my god, and he'd fallen for it hook, line, and sinker. He grinned now, a relieved smile and even laughed, though it admittedly wasn't that funny but the relief was a bit overwhelming. "You asshole! You really had me going there! I can't believe you went to all that effort to get a rise out of me. Ha ha." Archie merely watched him. "Now seriously, the joke's up. You can give me back my paper now."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Rodney. I don't have your paper," he responded and the door behind him opened suddenly and the same guy from before, beer in hand, looked between them before settling on his housemate.

"Arch, get back in here! We can't have a party without the man of honor!"

"Yeah, I'll be there in a sec. I'm just taking care of something."

"Whatever, man," and he disappeared back inside where the music seemed to increase in volume. Archie looked back at Rodney and grinned a tight lipped, half smile that was nothing but smugness and venom. Rodney was at an absolute loss for words.

"I've got to get back. We're celebrating my thesis, I handed it in just a few hours ago," Rodney's throat closed up and for the first time in as long as he could remember he was speechless. He had absolutely no words, and Archie continued as though they were talking about the weather or the neighbour's dog. "It's a nice piece of work, I'm real proud of it. It needed a few touch ups in the end to make it flow better, to put it in my own voice so to speak, but the all-nighter I pulled took care of that."

"You…my thesis and you just…I can't believe-"

"Believe what you want Rodney, you always do," he sneered, becoming someone Rodney had never seen before, a stranger with a cold, hard glare that looked at him like he was some kind of diseased rodent.

"But, why?" And he did _not_ sound heartbroken and his voice did not crack and he was not going to break down in front of this person that had been his best friend and whom he had literally trusted more than anyone else. He absolutely refused to fall that far. He glared, or tried to as much as he could, but it didn't have the effect he was going for as Archie's demeanor didn't change. It didn't even crack.

"Why? If you can't figure that out then you might as well stop calling yourself a genius," he replied with a neutral tone and then, after a moment, decided to add more. "In this world Rodney, in this day and age, if you want to become something great you have to be smart about it."

"I am smart! That's why I wrote the damn thesis!"

"There's smart, and then there's smart. You have the drive and the intelligence, but you lack the skills. It's nothing personal kid, I'm just ensuring my future. Take care of yourself," the platitude was so fake Archie should have just handed Rodney the plastic mould it came from. And then the man was gone, back inside his home where the music was pumping and the beer was being passed around and cheers of Greenwall's success were flying through the open windows and into the street.

He stood there for thirty seconds, his mind making connections, drawing up all sorts of actions he'd been blind to over the years. The way his 'friend' had sculpted him into being his perfect tool for getting what he wanted. He had been used, more than he had ever thought possible. He gave himself thirty seconds as he realized that everything, even the redhead from the night before, had been one big, fat lie. A mockery, he had made a mockery of him. Rodney's glare narrowed at the door before he twisted around and stomped off the porch and straight to the Dean's office. He was not going to let Greenwall get away with this!

But in the end he did, and nothing Rodney did could disprove that the thesis Greenwall had handed in was his own. He had no hardcopies of it. When they had gone to the library to check the materials he had used as references he discovered that the files had been changed. There was no record of his research at all, but there was a long record in Greenwall's file that showed all the books Rodney had poured through when writing his work. He went to his thesis advisor, the same man who advised Greenwall, only to have the professor state that the thesis was in fact Archie Greenwall's, and that he had been working on it for quite some time.

The glare Rodney leveled him with did nothing to change his statement and when the two people investigating Rodney's claim of the plagiarized thesis departed he looked at his advisor with all the disdain he could muster. He made the man literally squirm in his overstuffed chair.

"I'm sorry, Rodney. I didn't have a choice."

"What did he do, get late night pictures of you with your secretary?" He sneered, and was even more disgusted when the man had the audacity to look both ashamed and pleading.

"I can't risk my marriage Rodney, my children…" Rodney's expression didn't change, and the advisor finally turned away. "I made sure there wasn't a disciplinary hearing, but you'll have to have a completed thesis by Thursday to continue in the program..."

"You can't be serious," he snarled. Completing one of his spare theses by Thursday would be a pain-in-the-ass but he could do it. But being tossed from the program at this stage, amid rumors of intellectual theft would severely hamper his career - he could recover, but he'd spend years trying to find grant-money. And they knew that, counted on it to keep him in line. "Bastards."

He stormed out before he could take a swing at his advisor. There was nothing he could do. Greenwall had planned everything so meticulously, covered every track that Rodney could think of exploiting. They dropped the investigation, and Rodney was reprimanded for declaring false accusations but he wasn't thrown out of the school. Oh no, they wouldn't dare get rid of their prodigy, Rodney McKay.

He went home and pulled up one of his half finished thesis, one he had put on the back burner that he had been planning on finishing right after he'd handed this one in. For three solid days he did nothing but type, referencing passages necessary to back his theories from memory so he didn't have to go to the library directly. He lived on coffee, chips and chocolate and by the time the deadline came around he had finished. It was just as good, if not better than his original thesis, anger and betrayal fuelling his need to do better than Greenwall, which ultimately meant doing better than himself.

He supposed he should be grateful for the experience, at least partially. He had learned that, besides not being able to trust people he'd practically thought of as family, he actually worked really well under great academic pressure. He supposed it was better than coming out of it with nothing at all.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

Zelenka sat across from him and ruthlessly ripped his fresh chunk of Athosian black bread into tiny, less than bite sized pieces. Carson, who was sitting next to the angry Czech, had been slowly inching away from the man as he muttered dark words under his breath and glared at the bowl of stew in front of him. John looked beside him at Teyla, who merely lifted her eyebrow in comment while she slowly ate her lunch. Figures he'd get no help from her, _fat lot of good her diplomatic skills are if she always lets me do the talking,_ he groused to himself as he looked back at the scientist.

Sheppard had watched as Zelenka stormed into the cafeteria, making a beeline to the food and waiting impatiently as it was handed to him rather hastily. It was really quite sad how much the military seemed to fear the science contingent, but he couldn't fault his soldiers for that discretion, especially after seeing what Harkson had done to Lorne last week after the soldier made fun of him one too many times. Fortunately it had been friendly retaliation and was taken in good humour, or it could have caused problems.

Despite that, Radek was obviously not in a good mood as he had acquired his lunch, and it hadn't improved as he stormed his way over to their table and promptly dropped into the seat next to Carson. He hadn't said a single thing in English yet, but, judging by the angry muttering, it was probably a good thing. When Carson began to look at the Czech as if he were deciding how to best approach the man, Sheppard figured it was time to bite the bullet and find out what was wrong. Or, more specifically, tell everyone else what was wrong.

"What did Rodney do this time?" He asked around a mouth full of bread, ignoring the way Teyla frowned at his manners. If she wasn't going to help him, he was going to annoy her as much as possible. The scientist looked up and glared at him.

"What did he do? Nothing. That is the problem, and now I have this to deal with," he dropped his bread in disgust and rubbed at his forehead. Well, deciphering that Rodney was the cause of the man's ire was as far as Sheppard got when it came to translating that, so he said the next most intelligent thing he could think of.

"Uh huh." Radek looked at him and then frowned to himself as he thought about what he had just said, and then rubbed at his temple again.

"Ah, I am sorry. All my life I have never been so easily aggravated before I met McKay. The man is like…like," he floundered.

"Aye, he is at that lad," Carson agreed in full understanding and Sheppard wondered when it was that they had begun having conversations in half sentences.

"Is this about the investigation?" Teyla asked, pushing her empty tray away from her and leaning into the conversation.

"Yes, and the fact he did not warn me there was going to be one," he huffed in a very McKay-like fashion. It was…eerie.

"He didn't know there was going to be one," Sheppard supplied. "In fact, only Weir did, and she was under orders not to disclose this information, not even to me, until the investigators had arrived." And arrived they had.

"That is lie. He knew, at the very least he suspected all along, and he did not bother to tell me."

"I don't understand why this is a problem. If he did not truly know if there was to be an investigation then he would have been lying if he warned you," Teyla diplomatically pointed out, which seemed to deflate a little more of the Czech's anger.

"It is problem because he should tell me of such things, as his second in command of course," he added on.

"Don't worry, Radek. If it's any consolation he didn't tell anyone else of his suspicions, either. That's just typical Rodney, I'm sure he meant nothing by it," Carson tried.

"It probably slipped his mind," Sheppard added, though in truth he knew it probably hadn't, and by the look Radek gave him the other man didn't believe that either. "Or he just didn't care enough to bother telling anyone?"

"I have had two investigations since I started work for Stargate Program. Both times it was just procedure. This is different, this is directly related to his performance. I cannot see him not caring about this."

"I didn't say he didn't care, just that he didn't care _enough_. Let's face facts here, this is Dr. Rodney McKay we're talking about, and from what I understand he is no stranger to performance reviews."

"Yes, well, the last one that didn't go well ended up with him in Russia. He is still angry about that," Radek argued and John frowned now as well. He had known about that, but somehow he had forgotten about it.

"Well, that's not going to happen this time, regardless. There have been some tough patches, but frankly I don't think there's anything to worry about. It's pretty clear to me that he's needed where he is, and I plan to make that a well known fact."

"Perhaps it is beneficial that he is friends with Major Thompkins then, as that should work in his favour," Teyla added her own encouragement, which had them all frowning again.

"Maybe," John conceded. "Thompkins is tackling the security angle though, not the science so I'm not sure how much help he'll be."

"I wonder how he knows him, they strike me as an odd couple," Carson pondered and, at Sheppard's smirk he glared at him. "Grow up Colonel, ye know I'm speakin' of their friendship and nothing more."

"Whatever you say, Doc," he countered.

"Not so odd really," Radek spoke up. "Rodney has been in program long time now, ten years maybe? He has worked with military on many occasions, so it is likely he has acquaintances somewhere."

"Maybe," John conceded again, though that didn't stop him from wondering, especially after the explosion in the briefing room yesterday. Hell, he'd been wondering ever since Rodney's comment that Thompkins owed him a drink in the gateroom. Frankly John was a little miffed about being left out of the details, maybe a tad hurt, like Radek was about not being told of the investigation when Rodney suspected it.

Sheppard had been patient. Really patient in his opinion, something he was notorious for _not_ being. It had been tough on Atlantis recently (when was it not these days?) but he felt that with everything going on he was due a little reward, a little insight, a little return for all of his hard work and steadfast friendship. It wasn't that he was nosey…okay, maybe he was just a little, but he would be lying if he said that this didn't bother him.

He had been Rodney's friend for almost two years now, well, a year and a half at least, and the man was still too damned cautious around him; around all of them, if he was being honest. Now, the last thing he expected or wanted was for McKay to tell him all his deep, dark secrets at once, hell no, but there were times when John sensed that McKay wanted to spill but he held himself back. He couldn't really say much though, since he had never really told the man anything about himself either. Maybe it was time he worked on changing their dynamics a bit, after all, a little honesty only solidified a friendship, right? Sheppard knew why he had such a hard time opening up about some things, but it really made him wonder what the hell had happened to make McKay so cautious.

"Don't worry Carson, I have a sure fire plan of figuring out that mystery," Sheppard informed them with a smug grin while leaning back in his seat.

"Oh, ya do eh? Well then, what is this masterful strategy you've managed to come up with?"

"I'm going to ask him."

"Who? Thompkins?"

"Yep," He grinned and Carson barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

"Right, and I'm sure he'll just open up and tell ye since Rodney's been so forthcomin' himself."

"Oh, I plan on being subtle about it," he informed Carson and then frowned at the somewhat incredulous looks he received from around the table. "What? Hey, I can be subtle," he argued and was merely rewarded with shaking heads. "I can!"

* * * * * * * * * *

Zelenka was tired. He knew he was overworking again, but he had trouble convincing his over-stimulated brain to follow his body's pleas for longer rest breaks and more wholesome meals. It was a fairly common state since coming to Atlantis, though he would admit that he took many more breaks to eat and sleep than did Rodney. When people told him to get some rest, he told himself that he was just trying to catch up to the Canadian. Besides, the notion of being anywhere other than in this room was just ludicrous! It was just… it was nirvana, or perhaps as close as he had come to it since landing in Atlantis itself.

He and Rodney had petitioned for cots to be brought into the control room so they could get even more work done, but Beckett had been worried that either he or Rodney would develop a habit of sleepwalking and fall into the icy water that lay just beyond the control room, in the submersible's docking area. It was unfair and, frankly, an annoying inconvenience.

He pushed himself to his feet, his knees protesting slightly where they had been bent awkwardly for too long, and stood over the console he had been checking. He had now replaced all of the depleted control crystals, though he still refused to tell Rodney where he had acquired the new ones and enjoyed every scowl the man graced him with, and double-checked the connectors to make sure there would be no 'boom' when they finally activated the entire control room.

There was much to discover here. Beyond this room was the place they had aptly named 'The Docks.' It was shaped like a giant dome, its ceiling completely smooth with large sections of the Ancients stained glass making it appear many shades of blue and purples. It reminded him of being under water at times, when he found himself staring up too long without blinking. Just last night…or was it this morning? No matter, he and Rodney had been putting away their tools and decided on one quick look at the water before leaving, what they hadn't expected to find was the darkened room's ceiling sparkling with tiny lights.

The Ancients had built the planets constellations into the ceiling to be viewed at night. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, and Rodney suspected that the constellations actually shifted with the planets seasons. Radek doubted the wonders the Ancients created would ever cease to amaze him.

However, that did not mean he was impressed with everything they did. At the very least they could have left instructions on how everything worked, perhaps they could have had a more organized database, and some of the things that they had created…there was just no logic or purpose behind it! They had mastered their art, but there had apparently been people of less… holistic understanding of their work among them. This alone made their jobs very difficult and, at times, dangerous. It was a wonder they hadn't had more scientific accidents yet, not that he wanted that to happen, not at all. He supposed it was a testament to how hard everybody worked, and how hard his boss worked to ensure their safety. This he had mentioned, several times, in his interview with Dr. Strat.

That man, who seemed to have a Dr. Carter fixation even worse than McKay, was fortunately off conducting some interviews in the main labs. Radek's gaze slid across his console to see Rodney…to see his buttocks waggling back and forth as he was on his hands and knees under the console to his side. He grinned at the site. Radek had held a little 'private' meeting earlier that morning with Dr. Geva and Dr. Assink, the two individuals who were scheduled to speak with Dr. Strat.

The three of them had come to the unanimous agreement that Dr. McKay needed to get some work done where the nice, investigating scientist, wasn't breathing down his neck spouting off about how 'Dr. Carter wouldn't have done things this way' and 'why exactly did he choose to react like that?' It had been two days since the interviews had begun and despite Rodney acting the way he always did, with a mixture of arrogance, superiority, and child-like enthusiasm, there was a stiffness in his step instead of his normal little bounce, much like when the Wraith had been coming to Atlantis. Radek did not like this, because he felt his friend had enough to deal with on any given day. Now, however, Rodney was still dealing with his experience under the ocean a few weeks ago and this was a bit soon for unnecessary stress.

Radek was quite upset about the entire situation. He understood that Major Thompkins was investigating the situation surrounding Greenwall, the attack on Rodney and how it had all been dealt with, and that Dr. Strat was assessing his ability to lead the scientists (and in many cases the military as well). This type of investigation was not uncommon, especially with a position as highly held as Rodney's, but what truly irritated Zelenka was that the stubborn Canadian hadn't told him to expect an investigation any time soon!

It would have been nice to be able to prepare, to plan around the investigation. Dr. Weir had been under orders not to disclose the upcoming investigation to anyone, and he was perhaps a tiny, little bit, very small amount annoyed that she hadn't let the upcoming investigation slip into a conversation. Rodney, however, had simply been trying to deal with the situation himself again. It was a bad habit with the senior staff of Atlantis, but after what happened with Greenwall and Doranda, Radek felt Rodney was still trying to figure out his place among his friends. He was still learning how to lean on them. Radek suspected he had had very little experience in that department in his life.

Well, now that Radek was aware of the investigation he was able to help Rodney out, as any good second in command would do, of course. He had already prevented Dr. Strat from finding Rodney on several occasions, and it seemed that some of the other scientists were beginning to catch on to his ploy. It probably had something to do with Rodney's face being a few shades too dark whenever Dr. Strat was around, and how his entire body seemed to tense up to almost painful straightness. It was not good for the scientists to have a stressed out leader and, for their own reasons, they were beginning to work to prevent that.

It hadn't escaped his notice, however, that some of the scientists were more than happy to bad mouth McKay to the Doctor when they could. That was fine, it was their personal opinions and they had a right to say how they truly felt. Radek had some very nice projects lined up for these individuals once the investigation was over, very nice indeed. At times like this, he understood why it was that Rodney enjoyed making the lives of some people miserable; it was an excellent form of self-therapy.

The most amusing thing about this investigation, or perhaps the only thing amusing about it, was that Rodney was completely oblivious to how his people were rallying around him. Radek was positive the Canadian would begin to notice soon, but for now it was very funny to see how baffled he was by people's actions.

Yesterday Radek had witnessed Dr. Brown run up the corridor, grab the startled scientist by the arm and literally drag him into the storage closet claiming that there was the most amazing thing in there that he just had to see. A moment later Dr. Strat had walked around the corner, smiling politely and asking if Radek had seen McKay, which of course he denied. Not five seconds after the man had entered the transportation closet had Rodney hastily backed out of the closet, followed by Dr. Brown, who was glancing up and down the hall. She smiled when Radek waved at her.

Rodney had been politely telling her that while the fungi that could grow around the nozzles on the cleaning supply bottles was probably just as fascinating as she claimed, he had other things to do and couldn't discus it at that moment. She had smiled and told him she'd just wanted him to see it before going back to her lab around the next corner. Rodney had decided he should check with Beckett to see if any of his scientists were on medications that could alter their normal states, Radek thought he called them 'stupid pills,' but as the comment had been muttered he hadn't heard it all.

It was only a matter of time before the scientific genius allowed his social awareness to activate and prove to him that something was going on. It was fun to watch, much like watching the said Canadian shuffle backwards out from under his console before throwing an arm up to grip at its edge and help him off the floor. When McKay turned around to look at Radek he frowned, probably because of the way Radek was grinning at him.

"What? Am I missing out on something?"

"You could say that," Radek answered smugly and was satisfied when Rodney glared at him and opened his mouth to complain when Radek continued, "You have some connector fluid on cheek, it compliments your eyes very nicely."

"What? Really?" He wiped at his cheek with his jacket sleeve and then glared at the blue gel that now marred his uniform. "Thanks," he called before turning back to his station, bouncing back and forth on his heels. The man could never stay still.

"Dr. Harkson?" Rodney looked at the doctor who was just rising from underneath his console as well, wiping his hands on his pants.

"I'm all set, Dr. McKay," he announced professionally. Rodney looked at Dr. Kusanagi and Dr. Keagan, who was straightening his shirt to make sure it matched the rest of his perfect appearance. They both nodded confirmation at Rodney who then looked at Radek and smiled. His eyes sparkled with excitement and the energy carried around the room and everyone but Keagan grinned in response.

This is what they lived for, what they worked so hard for. The thrill of discovery coursed through Radek's blood and he forced himself not to bounce in place as he returned his friend's happy grin. They had spent hours over the last few days speculating on the purpose of this control room and they had come to some very outrageous conclusions based on the data they had been able to acquire from the working systems. Yes, they were outrageous conclusions, but they usually were, and much more often than not McKay's crazy conclusions were correct. If this station turned out to be what they thought it was, then they were going to be very, very happy people. He could barely contain his excitement.

"Dr. Weir, come in please."

"Go ahead, Dr. McKay."

"We have finished the repairs on the final systems and everything is ready to be activated. With your permission I'd like to proceed."

"John?"

"The safety team is in position. While I trust that nothing here is going to explode any time soon," the Colonel announced through the radio, his smirk audible, "we do have a team standing by, just in case."

"You have permission to proceed. Good luck."

"Thank you," Rodney practically sang into the mike, "but we don't need luck. Stand by for activation." This particular control room didn't activate by the presence of a gene carrier or their mental commands, instead Radek placed his hand on the scanner designed to emulate the ATA gene at the top of his station. He watched as Rodney did the same and then Dr. Harkson followed suit. The reaction was almost instantaneous, along with the delighted smiles on everybody's faces even as they immediately began checking their readings.

Radek's hands flew over his station, his eyes travelling rapidly back and forth as he read all the pertinent data and began calling up the information he wanted. He heard McKay informing Dr. Weir that everything was running smoothly before cutting her off so that he could focus on his work. The other scientists in the room were scanning their stations, checking the readings, but at a more casual pace than Atlantis's top two minds. If they noticed the almost frantic way he and Rodney were examining their systems they did not comment and Radek did not care. He was on a mission to find the station that Rodney was certain this room was connected to. They had made a bet only an hour before on which of them would be able to find the information first once the system was up and Radek was not going to lose this one!

"A Ha!" Rodney suddenly yelled in joy from his place only three meters from him. Radek threw his hands up in frustration and looked at McKay, who was broadcasting one of his smuggest looks as he pointed blatantly at Zelenka. Radek glared at him. "You, my cunning, speed impaired friend, have to get me coffee whenever I ask for a week!" He clapped his hands together in his joy. The Canadian was positively beaming his happiness; it was disgusting and unbecoming of a man of his status.

"Yes, yes, I will tell you how brilliant you are after you show me what you found," he all but growled; never had he lost bets such as these before he had begun working with McKay. It could be…aggravating at times, whether they were friends or not.

"Oh, right," McKay turned back to his station and then, after frowning for a moment, reached out and activated something. The centre of the room, a large circular space orbited by the many consoles, flashed a bold beam of light that forced him to blink spots out of his eyes before properly focusing on the area. What he saw had Radek staring in glee, until he noticed that his mouth had fallen open and he snapped it shut, hoping no one had noticed. He looked over at Rodney who was staring at the large holographic image that appeared to be floating a few feet off the floor with a glazed, hungry look on his face before turning his vividly blue eyes to look at Radek in victory. They shared a smile and looked back at the structural apparition before them.

This is why they were scientists.

* * * * * * * * * *

Rodney was tired, hungry, in dire need of a strong cup of hot, black coffee and barely able to sit still in his chair as the rest of the department heads arrived for this impromptu meeting. Zelenka sat next to him, tapping away on Rodney's laptop, which the man had snatched away right from under his fingertips and was the reason Rodney was so edgy in his seat right now; he hated not having anything to focus his attention on, especially when he was excited. He glared again at Zelenka just to make sure the man knew how irritated he was by the Czech's theft, but he made no effort to steal his computer back from the man, nor did he fall back on his first natural instincts and insult him into the next millennium. Oh no, instead he mustered up a considerable amount of self restraint and let his friend have his way since he seemed to be doing something important. Rodney wondered if Radek knew what his lack of retribution was costing him right now, and if he did, he had damn well better appreciate it! Rodney did not restrain himself for just anyone.

Noticing that Zelenka, caught up in his little world of data input, was completely oblivious to his heated glares he turned his gaze to focus on the few people who had already gathered in the room. Sitting directly across from him was Carson, and naturally his gaze drifted to the tiny bandaids that were smattered across the back of his pale hand and frowned. Carson noticed the look and his eyes narrowed dangerously, silently daring Rodney to say anything as he gently rubbed a finger over one of the plasters. Honestly, it was just a few measly scratches and frankly it was Carson's own fault that they were there in the first place. Rodney had warned the Scotsman that his cats were in a feisty mood and, if he stuck his hand in to rub the cat's belly, retaliation was inevitable. Rodney grinned to himself as he remembered the incident from two nights ago and Carson looked even more annoyed as he glared at Rodney with a look that promised large needles in his near future.

He lost his grin quickly and looked over to Dr. Weir who appeared to be engrossed in a report on her own computer as she waited, a completely neutral look on her face. He highly doubted that she was as interested in what she was reading as she appeared to be and he was fairly positive she was paying more attention to the atmosphere in the room than anything else. When he looked to her left to see Dr. Strat calmly sipping his coffee he understood why she might be trying so hard to look as though she were busy so as to avoid conversation. Rodney's eyes focused on the non-descript metal coffee mug as it was placed back on the table and sighed to himself. What he wouldn't give for a cup of coffee right now, but he had been so intent on getting started that he had completely forgotten to stop by the cafeteria on his way to the meeting. It was a rarity that he would forget about such a valuable commodity, but it happened. Damn it.

Disgruntled now he looked at Major Thompkins to see the faint traces of a grin on his dark face as he had watched Rodney stare at Strat's beverage, and then he picked up his own drink and pointedly took a sip. Ohhh, history or not that man was going to suffer for that, make no mistake. Rodney folded his arms across his chest, crinkling his blue shirt, and raised an unimpressed eyebrow before turning back to contemplate Dr. Strat some more. If these two were going to be here Rodney would have liked to insist that Ronon and Teyla be present as well, even if this wasn't a team briefing, but he refrained from commenting for fear that he might come across sounding…whiney.

Not that he would sound whiney, after all he was a genius so everything he said basically came out sounding intelligent regardless of what it was. Well, almost everything, because he really couldn't lie to himself about a few of those bad days in the past where…but that was water under the bridge. Or at least he hoped it was as he looked at the brown haired doctor across from him, calmly sipping at his drink.

He knew that Strat had been interviewing expedition members left, right and centre since he'd arrived, using their words to help sculpt his opinion of Rodney's leadership ability, and he wondered what kind of questions the man asked. He bet they were leading questions; probably focused on making him look bad.

Distractedly Rodney picked up the pen that he had put down on the table only moments before and began twirling it around in his hand as he stared at the doctor. He wondered what his staff was saying about him, and then annoyance bubbled up in his stomach at the stupid thought. Why even worry about that? It's not like he'd wasted any time worrying about this investigation while he was waiting for it to arrive. He'd been in these situations before, frankly it was pretty normal for him, or had been whenever he'd held a command position back on earth. He had a tendency to rub people the wrong way at times and the complaints usually led to an inspection of his work ethics and leadership skills. So far he had passed them all and he sure as hell hadn't made any effort to change the way he worked for them.

He was a busy man, he didn't have the time or the inclination to sugar coat how he treated people just because he was being watched. It was a waste of energy and, if his reputation preceded him (as he knew it had), there was no point changing his behaviour since the investigators were expecting him to act a certain way. However, just because he didn't prepare for these things didn't mean he wasn't a tiny bit worried about their outcome. After all, he had landed some rather unpleasant details in the past because people with authority over him had become too annoyed with his attitude. Russia struck a particular cord there but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind.

He glanced at Zelenka again, who was still working away on Rodney's laptop…just what was the guy doing? McKay leaned over to take a look and Zelenka very discretely turned the machine so Rodney couldn't see unless he was practically leaning in his lap. Rodney glared at him again but sat back without a word. He was _not_ sulking.

Sometimes he just didn't understand Zelenka, or most of his friends here for that matter. Seriously, why couldn't everything just be straightforward and simple? He sometimes felt he spent more time trying to understand his friends' actions and what they meant by them than sleeping, which frankly was just not right.

He had thought things were better between them since the accident with the puddle jumper, but now Radek was mad at him again. It had taken him a week and a half to get the Czech to believe that he didn't blame him for the accident, even though that would have made his own ability to cope so much easier. But oh no, Zelenka, who was in charge of all jumper repairs, had decided that he was entirely to blame for the accident that had cost the life of a good man and nearly cost Rodney his life as well. There had been a lot of lessons learned that day, but overall the fault did not lie with Radek alone. There were just too many variables to pin-point an origin of blame; the jumper had been in horrendous shape when Radek had gone about fixing it; the ancients hadn't left any "Idiots Guide to Basic Mechanics for Puddlejumpers" books around for their reading pleasure; malfunctions happened; accidents happened; tragedy happened. They learned and they moved on and did their best to make sure it didn't happen again.

He wished like hell it had never happened, but he wished that a lot of things had never happened and it had taken a while for Radek to accept this was sometimes how things worked out. After that things had become easier between Rodney and Radek again, but now the crazy Czech was angry at him again simply because he didn't tell him to expect an investigation. It made no sense! It wasn't as if Radek was the one being investigated, so it really shouldn't have made a difference whether he knew or not. And Rodney had told him this, but it had only made the scientist more annoyed and Radek had stormed off for some food, muttering darkly in Czech and successfully ending the conversation. They hadn't spoken about it since and, while they were back to what Rodney considered their normal camaraderie, his friend still had moments where he openly displayed his displeasure. Hence the stolen, and then hidden, laptop.

Rodney had been exercising more restraint with Radek since his very public insults during Doranda but he wasn't sure it was having the desired effect, because Radek seemed to be using that knowledge against him.

"Rodney."

Seriously, he could be super nice for only so long and he was beginning to reach his limit.

"Rodney."

He had his own problems to deal with, such as whether or not he would be considered fit for his station here in Atlantis. One thing was certain, he hadn't left when Greenwall had shown up and he sure as hell wasn't going to leave Atlantis if some underdeveloped, paper pushing governmental lackey who had no true concept of the situation out here was going to strip him of his title. No way…

"Rodney!" He jerked at the aggravated hiss and looked at Zelenka, who was glaring through his glasses with a highly annoyed air.

"What?"

"Will you please desist?" Rodney frowned.

"Actually no, I have a lot of trouble when it comes to stopping my mind from thinking and I hardly think that…"

"With the pen. Please, you will drive me to insanity and then who will be around to help you when you fall into grave trouble and need intelligent scientist to save you, hmmm?" Rodney looked down at the pen in his hand, the pen he had been flipping between his fingers and clicking on and off incessantly as he'd mused.

"Kavanagh's still around, isn't he?"

He noticed Weir was trying to hide a smile and that Beckett didn't even bother trying as his pearly whites were flashed around the room, his thumb still rubbing over his Band-Aids. There was something wrong with that man, he was certain of it.

Despite the barb Rodney quickly put the pen down and Radek sighed in relief. Rodney had always had trouble sitting still, ever since he was a child. It had driven his parents insane…and his teachers and classmates. Radek quickly reached over and snatched the utensil up and Rodney, in retribution, pulled his computer back in front of himself. Radek rolled his eyes but grinned, and Rodney returned a smirk, until he looked at the computer screen to see that a game of solitaire was in progress. Radek had stolen his computer for this! Oh, he was through playing nice and he opened his mouth to berate the man when a voice, most decidedly not his own, startled him from behind.

"It's comforting to see you working so hard to keep us safe, McKay," Sheppard announced and again Rodney was opening his mouth to retort when suddenly the Colonel's arm snuck around him and a mug was deposited in front of him, filled with what he personally considered the elixir of life. Rodney already had it to his lips while Sheppard deposited one in front of Zelenka before taking his seat to Rodney's left.

"Oh, I knew there was a reason I kept saving your life," he muttered and Sheppard merely smirked, and leaned back in his chair.

"So," he said causally, his hair doing nothing to give him the appearance of being the leader of the defence of their entire population, "news on the grapevine says you two were working into the wee hours of the morning in the control room. I guess this meeting means you found something of interest?"

"That would be an understatement, Colonel," Rodney replied, not bothering for Dr. Weir to officially begin the meeting as everyone was finally here, but looking to her for permission to continue. At her nod he began bouncing in his seat, and then forcibly controlled himself.

"As you know we've been working to repair the main control room for the submersible bay and that last night we successfully completed that task," he didn't bother waiting for their nods of agreement as he continued. "Now, with the aid of this control room we've been able to locate a few functioning submersibles within the bay itself that seem to be working safely on all levels. But," he paused for effect and ignored Sheppard's quiet snort beside him, "we've also found something much, much more interesting. In fact, I've suspected its existence for some time now but we hadn't been able to garner any useful information from the database."

"What exactly did you find?" He could tell he had peaked Weir's interest. Good, that was very good. He looked at Zelenka.

"Dr. Zelenka, if you could please pull up the visual," he requested and no sooner had he spoken than the image appeared on the large screen at the head of the table drawing everybody's attention like moths to a flame, or wraiths to a human colony depending on the analogy one preferred to use. "This," he gestured though nobody was looking at him, "is what we've been searching for." He dropped his left hand to rest behind his back and rubbed the fingers on his right hand together in an effort to not start bouncing on his feet.

"Wow, now that looks cool," Sheppard exclaimed and Rodney found himself rolling his eyes. Everything was cool to Sheppard. "So, what is it, exactly?" What? What did he mean what is it? How could he not know? Wasn't it obvious?

"We haven't come up with proper title for it yet," Zelenka responded, "but it can be best described as a habitable, submersible, amphibious, long-term science station designed to traverse the currents of entire water mass of this planet."

"In other words," McKay interjected, unable to curb his enthusiasm, "this is the reason we suspect Atlantis was situated on this planet in the first place."

"Huh," John commented, leaning back in his seat even further, a thoughtful look on his face and a slight tilt to his head that told Rodney exactly how interested the soldier was with this discovery. Excited, that was the best way to describe him and frankly, right now, McKay couldn't think of a better emotion to exhibit; without further ado he and Radek launched into their presentation.

* * * * * * * * *

John watched as Rodney and Zelenka, now both standing at the far end of the room, took turns describing the science station they had discovered. Or they at least appeared to be taking turns as they performed a verbal tug of war for the right to speak while their hands waved around in almost synchronized patterns. Sheppard, while intent on what they were actually saying, couldn't help but take a moment to bask in the excitement they brought to the room. After everything that had happened since arriving in Atlantis, it was a relief to know that some things never changed. Looking at the gleam in Rodney's eyes now, and the way Zelenka happily allowed himself to be pushed aside in the explanation process for a few moments before ruthlessly cutting back in was comforting. It was strange how he had come to rely on certain constants to let him know that everything was still right in their world.

Rodney still being excited about new discoveries…that was something he never wanted to lose, because when that happened he figured they were all in deep shit.

The last few weeks had been difficult, as they had been forced to deal with Rodney's recovery and to the loss of one more good man. The eleven hours they had spent locked inside the puddle jumper on Atlantis while they waited for his body to properly depressurize had been something Sheppard never wanted to experience again. Rodney, whose gaze had been glassy, had wavered in the lucidity department at times while he had been stripped of wet clothing and then bundled into dry clothing with as many blankets wrapped around him as possible. He had sat shivering; he had been quiet.

John wasn't sure what his friend had been thinking most of his time while he shut himself off, but he knew it hadn't been anything good. After he had recovered and been released from the infirmary he had fallen right back into his fun-loving, '_I will decimate you with mere words and a look if you so much as think a stupid thought in my direction'_ attitude. While Sheppard had been glad for that, he knew everything wasn't all right in his friend's world.

Sheppard looked away from his scientist as he explained how the underwater science station was designed to be submerged for years at a time so it could properly follow the natural patterns of the water currents. His gaze fell on Dr. Strat, who was staring at the scientists with a slightly glazed look as he listened to what they were saying. Investigator or not, John could tell the man loved science as much as the next geek in this place, which should help since he was supposed to actually investigate Rodney's competence as a scientist as well as a leader.

What did Sheppard think of the man? Well, he couldn't say yet. He was trying very hard not to hold a grudge since the guy was just doing his job, but that didn't stop the irritation that leaked into his feelings about the entire situation. As far as he was concerned, Rodney was meant to be the leader of the science division. Frankly he was good at the job, not that Sheppard had a lot to compare to, but it was just with the way he handled everything from the science to the people. McKay wasn't always ideal, but who really was? They were only human, and Sheppard had long ago admitted to himself that he needed to remember that with McKay, because he often forgot that when the man continued to pull miracles from his…mind.

Anyway, the point was that McKay was right where he needed to be and he didn't need this damn investigation while he was still partially recovering from his near death the month before. But, as they say, shit happened and they would continue to deal with it as it piled up. He hadn't yet spoken much to Strat outside of meetings, which was why he was still reserving judgement on the man himself.

Looking at Thompkins however, had him a little more on edge with his emotions. The solidly built African-American was watching McKay intently at the moment, something that Sheppard had noticed he did an awful lot when they were in the same vicinity. He wasn't sure what to make of it and he couldn't get a grasp on what the soldier might be thinking as he studied McKay. One thing he did notice, however, was how the man's body language shifted from normal alert mode to a higher level of alert whenever he could see McKay. At least he had whenever John had been in the same room with them. What he wanted to know was…well, a lot of things actually.

He understood that there were some problems back on Earth in regards to the legal proceeding of Greenwall's crimes on Atlantis. It had something to do with Cadross not being considered a reliable witness and the evidence that they had produced possibly not being substantial enough. Not substantial enough his ass! If someone like Greenwall had even hinted at wanting to take a shot at Dr. Carter or Dr. Jackson he would have been chained, gagged, and thrown into the deepest pit of hell O'Neill could possibly find and no one would have blinked an eye. Why this was turning so difficult he didn't know, but he suspected it had a lot to do with Greenball's sharp tongue.

He had been only too happy to help Thompkins collect more evidence against Greenwall, but Sheppard also had this almost burning desire to know more about this connection between Rodney and Thompkins, and so far none of his questions had paid off. Thompkins was proving to be even more close-mouthed than Rodney was on the subject, but he had assured him that the details would be available once Strat produced the declassified folder. Was he being nosey? Hell yes! Frankly, as the leader of the military contingent on Atlantis and responsible for the safety of every individual in the city he believed he needed to know such things. The fact that Rodney didn't think he needed to know, well, that just made him want to know even more, though it was less for security reasons than because of their friendship.

Rodney was his friend. HIS friend, damn it! And there was one hell of a lot he didn't know about the guy. John didn't have a lot of people he considered close to him. Friendly acquaintances he had in abundance, but real honest to god friends? He could count them on one hand and Rodney was number one. The fact that McKay and Thompkins had a connection that he didn't know anything about, that appeared to be fairly deep judging by McKay's refusal to talk about it, made him feel… left out. He was definitely _not_ jealous. Not a chance. At least not yet as the two men had pretty much not spoken beyond a professional capacity since the two investigators had arrived. He would reserve his possessiveness for a time when more information was forth coming.

Back to the main issue though. John studied Thompkins as the soldier studied McKay, and maybe Zelenka too for that matter. What was it about the man that was bothering Sheppard? He'd assigned Ronon to keep an eye on him since his second day in Atlantis. The runner had reported that he'd done a few interviews with some scientists and soldiers alike, and a lot of reading. Dex had said that he'd been interested in what looked like personnel files and accident reports, particularly ones that circled around McKay, since the time Greenwall had been around. Ronon had listed off the report of Greenwall's murder attempt; an accident several months before where McKay had been trapped and dematerialized in the Atlantian transporters for an hour before Zelenka had fixed the possible disaster and rematerialized him; and, more recently, the puddle jumper accident which led to him nearly drowning. Then Ronon had clocked him a good one upside the head as he processed this information in the middle of their sparring practice. They had mutually agreed to end the session then before Sheppard's lack of concentration got him killed.

One thing was certain, Ronon's hawk-like eyesight and stealth tactics were coming in all kinds of useful outside of missions. He should probably focus on the meeting now, though. Carson was leaning forward in his seat now, and he seemed rather excited about something.

"Are ye sure, Rodney? Because if ye're right about this…"

"Yes, yes, yes, if I'm right about this we may have discovered the reason why the ancients are able to communicate with their technology via the ATA gene," he waved his hands in the air and grinned like, well, like he did when he was having a really good day. The energy he was trying to contain was showing as he bounced on his toes a few times and bobbed his head around smugly, until he realized what he was doing and obviously forced himself to stop. But wait a second, did he just say he thought they might have found the key to the link between the ATA gene and the ancient technology? Why the hell hadn't he been paying full attention to what they were saying!

"That's…that's incredible Rodney," Carson sighed, a grin beginning to pull at his own lips as he leaned forward in his chair, eyes alight with interest.

"Yes, it is, but don't get your hopes up yet because we're really only just scratching the surface with our research so far and there's always the possibility that we won't find anything," Rodney cautioned, though he was still bouncing.

"We know, from the minimal amount of data and research we have managed so far that the ATA gene reacts to the technology on not only a physical level but on a mental level as well," Radek explained, pushing his glasses quickly back up his nose and then pointing at the image on the screen before them all. "As Dr. Beckett has explained to us, the gene produces a series of proteins and enzymes that interact with the carrier's skin, nervous system and brain, but what none of us has figured out is exactly how."

"We've speculated for some time now that there must be something very specific within the technology, more specifically the alloys used in all of the ancients creations, which allow for this "communication," if you will." Rodney pointed at an image of a chain of amino acids that had appeared on the screen.

"None of our tests have shown anything abnormal about the metals, at least not abnormal for the Pegasus galaxy, but we have not been sure of what to look for. None of Dr. Beckett's teams have been able to find a connection between the gene and the composition of the metal either."

"But that doesn't mean it's not there, just that it's somehow obscured enough to avoid detection no matter what we try," Beckett informed them.

"Then how do you _know_ it's there?" Dr. Strat asked and Rodney, too excited to be overly annoyed by the question merely waved it off.

"I just do. Now, we determined right off the bat that Ancient technology must have some form of biological components that are capable of recognizing the proteins in our skin. Also, it must have some form of electrical sensors that are capable of detecting changes in brain activity."

"This would explain how some people have a stronger affinity for the technology. For example, Colonel Sheppard's brain activity may change more or the active sections are more easily detected than others with the ATA gene, which is why he has a stronger connection than everyone else," Beckett added and John sat straighter in his seat as several pairs of eyes turned to look at him. Thankfully Rodney felt that he was more worthy of the attention and drew it back to himself.

"We've tried experimenting with alloys to try and replicate this organic component but our efforts have so far proven…" he paused, trying to find the right word.

"Disastrous," Zelenka helpfully supplied.

"I was going to say less than fruitful, but disastrous works. We just cannot find a way to replicate whatever it is that allows a carrier to link to the technology."

"But you have now?" Weir asked, her eyes clearly just as excited as the scientists. It was a good look on her Sheppard mused, it was less…stressed out.

"No," Rodney snapped his fingers and suddenly the image of the strange looking space station appeared again, this time rotating on the screen to give a full view. "But we think this station will be able to tell us something about it."

"We believe the Ancients originally came to this planet to study simply for curiosities sake. Obviously they had already known how to create their technology and gene at the time," Zelenka started.

"But when they were here they obviously discovered something that made building Atlantis at this location possible."

"Obviously," Sheppard confirmed and Rodney grinned at him. John looked at Thompkins pointedly. _Ha, he doesn't smile at you like that!_

"The composition of the alloy used in the ancient technology can be varied to slightly alter the properties that we are familiar with, such as strength, flexibility, heat resistance and _conductivity_."

"We believe," Zelenka brought his hands together and looked as though he were praying as he gently waved them up and down to make his point, "that the alloy contains natural components we have not yet detected which react to the gene on both a physical and mental level. As we have never seen anything like this on Earth we do not have way of detecting whatever small amount of organic mineral compound, or perhaps even crystal compound, is in the alloy. In essence, it could be used to create a sensor that detects changes in brain activity, such as Colonel Sheppard's, to such fine degree that it allows for thought control of ancient devices."

"They found telepathic steel?" Sheppard asked, simply because it had to be said. Zelenka looked at him and blinked.

"Well, yes, in essence."

"The problem is that we have no way of figuring out how or why the alloys react like this. According to the new information we've found, the actual telepathic steel," Rodney completely ignored Sheppard's wide grin as he used his phrase, "is extremely rare and very, very, very difficult to find. I think they blended it with their abundant alloy to create what they needed for their technology."

"We believe the science station we discovered found a large deposit of such a component, and that it will have more information on what it truly is."

"If we can figure this out, we might be able to create our own technology and this could go a loooong way in helping us learn about the ancient tech already in existence, not to mention repairing it." Then Rodney looked right at Sheppard, his face practically splitting in half in glee. "We could make our own ships." Sheppard thought instantly of the basic designs Rodney had been working on as one of his many pet projects and looked directly at Weir.

"Well, when do we head out?" Judging by the smile on her face it wouldn't be soon enough.

* * * * * * * * * *


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

* * * * * * * * * *

**China, 2000**

Rodney paused on the front steps of the hotel and looked out at the street with distaste, his sharp eyes glancing left and slowly sweeping over to his right. It was drizzling lightly, the water misting around the almost overwhelming amount of lights on the street in a way that wasn't at all romantic. In fact, when the drizzle was accompanied with the sound of wet tires on the road, cars honking, and the ever-present hum of muddled conversation interspersed with shrieks of laughter or yelling, it was downright uninviting. However, it wasn't the rain itself that annoyed him, but the sheer number of people that were still flooding the street. He glanced at his cheap watch, purchased just that morning after his other cheap watch had been stolen right off his wrist, and the arms pointed out that it was only ten-thirty in the evening. Well, as far as he was concerned, Friday night or not, these people should already be at home or in whatever club, bar, strip joint or karaoke lounge that they were obviously heading towards.

With an aggravated huff he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, keeping a firm grip on his wallet, and stepped into the crowd. It took no time at all for him to set his brisk pace (thank god the locals actually walked at a decent clip and not at the pace of a herd of sloths) and he looked cautiously over his shoulder to see the other, obviously out of place, tall man step into the crowd a few paces behind him. With the reassurance that his appointed body guard was doing his job Rodney spent no more time worrying about his safety and headed straight to the market that the bellhop had recommended to him. He had been sitting on his ass in conferences all damn day and the only thing they had fed him was finger food! As if that was enough to sustain anyone through hours of mind numbing boredom.

He huffed loudly, startling the tiny woman who had been walking next to him, and curled in on himself a bit more. The conference had been running for a week but he had arrived only two days before, refusing to take any more time than he absolutely had to away from his highly important, not to mention classified, work in Area 51. He hadn't been scheduled to speak originally, and wouldn't have come at all, except that SG-1 had gotten stranded off world again and Carter had been forced to cancel. Greenwall had made the last minute substitution, reminding him of the necessity of making public appearances, but Rodney could have cared less. He was a prominent member of the scientific community and they read his work, why did they need to see him in person? A handful of speakers had tweaked his scientific interest however, and he'd finally conceded to Greenwall's order.

Regardless of his reasons for being here, Rodney had already sat through two days of presentations and he had just about given himself an aneurysm by restraining himself from commenting on their work. Despite what people said about his social graces, even he was not ignorant or evil enough to publicly humiliate his fellow scientists that way. It had been hard though, despite the few noteworthy presentations, to not yell out corrections and he had been catering a tension headache the entire day.

He was almost giddily grateful that he had until Monday off before he had to jump back into that academic hellhole. Not that he had anyone to socialize with, as everyone pretty much steered clear of him unless they needed him. He grinned at that, thankful that his attitude at least garnered him his own privacy. He was not at all disgruntled about not having anyone to share the China experience with. Not at all. Besides, chances were he'd spend the weekend going over the all the conferences 'discoveries' with the other scientists anyway, much like he had been doing this evening.

He was looking forward to presenting his own work though, as he had some rather brilliant points to make. He was also looking forward to the praise he would no doubt receive and hey, he might even get laid if he impressed some of his fellow scientists enough. Women loved an intelligent man. The only true drawback to the entire trip was the fact that Greenwall had come to the conference as well.

The practical study of wormhole physics was an extraordinarily small scientific community, on Earth at least, so it was inevitable that their paths would cross again and that had finally occurred two years ago when they both interviewed for the scientific directorship of Area 51. Greenwall was still the same vindictive, slimy son-of-a-bitch Rodney had known in university, but he knew all the right phrases and never missed an opportunity to belittle Rodney's work, though he hid his criticisms in carefully phrased questions and implications. They had both been hired in the end, and while Rodney's salary had been commensurate with his brilliance, Greenwall had gotten the directorship. They didn't interact outside of staff or policy meetings, but the subtle attacks on his character had continued relentlessly, alienating him just that much more from those colleagues who envied him for his youth and intelligence. He could quit, but unless he wanted to move off world, assuming they could find a race that was willing to share their technology, there simply wasn't anywhere else on Earth where he could study wormhole physics and alien technology, and he wasn't willing to give that up. Especially for Greenwall.

He had hoped for a brief respite during the conference though, but Greenwall had followed him there on the pretext of scouting new talent for Area 51. It wasn't enough that they both worked in the same building, but he couldn't even escape the man for a conference.

He glared at the people around him. He hated crowds; they pressed in from all sides and were always so busy that he just couldn't get a grasp on everything that was going on around him. But the promise of some really good roasted duck and whatever else his destination had to offer was worth the risk, and he had managed to escape the hotel as some famous person had entered so no one had spotted him to drag him into another quiz about his 'opinions.' He didn't care what anyone said, the world of academia was full of vultures trying to glean ideas from other people. It made him angry, because he and the others who had earned the right to be there and who didn't want to play 'the game' had to always be on guard.

He paused a moment, narrowly avoiding having his eyes pocked out by one of the thousand umbrellas swarming around him, and looked around. The baggage kid had said to take a right at the third street down, then a left at the next street (which he might miss because it was a smaller, less used road) and then he would find it on the right. Right, that meant he had to go right here…aha, he spotted the tiny road he wanted across the way.

He looked over his shoulder again to see his guard still trailing him, and sighed in relief. Most of the scientists had been provided with one during this conference for security reasons, and he had two guards that worked in rotating shifts. He didn't know their names, and frankly he didn't care as long as they did their jobs, but he felt better knowing he wasn't completely alone.

"Don't you people know how to walk in a straight line? I'm trying to get somewhere important here!" He snapped at those closest to him and levelled them with a glare. Hmmm, it didn't have quite the desired effect, but they seemed to move out of his way regardless and he quickly strolled across the street. The rain had picked up, and despite how dirty it probably was due to pollution and god knows what else that infested the air around here, he was glad for it. He had been overly warm all day. He brushed a few drops away from his eyes and moved to enter the narrow street.

"McKay," his guard called out behind him and he turned, pursing his lips in irritation.

"It's _Doctor_ McKay," he corrected loudly while he waited impatiently for the man to catch up. This guy wasn't very good at his job, otherwise he would have been closer to him at all times. Anyone could have gotten between them easily if they had wanted to, and Rodney was about to tell him just that when he saw that the big man was cautiously looking around them. "What?" he swallowed and looked around nervously. "Is someone following me?"

"Quiet for a second, please," he requested. Well, at least he was polite, if not at all reassuring. Rodney looked behind him at the darkened narrow street and suddenly berated himself for almost walking in there. Anything could have jumped out at him! The sound of a vehicle pulling up had him twisting around again and his guard's hand was suddenly on his arm as the delivery van's side door swung open and two people with masks stared out at him.

"What the hell! Shoot them already!" he yelled, beginning to turn and run when the hand on his arm squeezed down like a clamp and the hard, unmistakable press of a gun dug into his side. He twisted around sharply and stared at his guard, his eyes widening as he understood exactly what was going on.

"Get in the van, _Doctor_ McKay," the guard hissed, digging harder with the weapon. Rodney opened his mouth to scream bloody murder when he was harshly cut off. "We _can _shoot you as long as we don't kill you," he warned. Rodney noted absently that his eyes were a stunning shade of blue as he closed his mouth and thickly swallowed his cry for help. "That's good. Greenwall said you were smart."

The hand on his arm pulled him forward and the gun at his waist steered him to the waiting people in the van. He didn't stumble at all as they dragged him inside and slammed the door shut, leaving his traitorous guard out in the rain. A needle pricked his arm even as his hands were being cuffed behind him and, despite the terror, he really couldn't fathom how something like this was _actually_ happening to him. It ceased to matter all together as his world went dark.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

She was about to go back to working on the treaty she was arranging with the Thear, an early industrial civilization that Major Lorne's team had made contact with when someone rapped sharply on one of several entrances to her office. She looked up to see Dr. Strat awaiting permission to enter.

"Dr. Strat, what can I do for you?"

"Dr. Weir. Please forgive the intrusion," he walked up to her desk, though his attention was as much on the architecture of the room as it was on her. He stopped in front of her and pulled a file from where he had it tucked under his arm and handed it to her.

"What's this?" Her question pulled his attention back to her and he pursed his lips slightly.

"The declassified file describing Dr. McKay's experience in China. Due to concerns of computer security these days, only a hard copy is available." She looked down at the bold red 'declassified' stamp, feeling something in her chest tighten.

"At the moment there are three other files identical to the one you're holding. I have one, an individual I do not know the identification of back on Earth has one, and – as of an hour ago – Dr. McKay himself has one. I apologize for not having provided it to you sooner but the investigation has monopolized my time and there was no convenient moment to deliver them to you in person," He paused and looked at her expectantly, as she gently lay the folder back down on her desk.

"I see," though she didn't really. She didn't bother asking him how the investigation was progressing, knowing that he couldn't answer. Instead she looked back down at the file, drawn to the bold red letters, and took a deep breath, before picking it up and locking it securely in the bottom drawer on her desk. She would look at it later, when she was least likely to be interrupted. "Thank you. I'll see that Colonel Sheppard is presented with this once I've finished reviewing it."

He nodded, and recognizing the dismissal in her tone, quietly left.

* * * * * * * * * *

Apparently, not everyone followed the unwritten guidelines of how to avoid investigators, and Sheppard appeared intent on proving that fact as he walked across the cafeteria, tray of food in hand, and stopped right at Jerry's table.

"Major Thompkins, mind if we join you?" Jerry looked past Sheppard to see the towering bulk of Ronon Dex just behind him, looking bored.

"Not at all." There was tension between them, and had been since Jerry first arrived, but as far as he could tell the Colonel didn't dislike him, he just didn't like having him around. He knew it was connected to his history with McKay somehow, but he hadn't figured out why yet.

"Great, when this place gets packed it's almost impossible to get a seat," he commented as he smoothly slid into the chair across from Thompkins. Jerry looked around to pointedly note that there were at least five completely empty tables and a few only half filled, and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. Sheppard appeared oblivious to the look as Ronon sat next to him and began shovelling food into his mouth, ignoring them both.

"So, how do you like Atlantis so far?" and that was how their conversation began. It was quite amazing how Sheppard could say so much and not once say anything of any true importance, but he told stories well.

"So, to get a little payback Carson declared that, since McKay had come all the way down to the infirmary and interrupted his work, that his condition was probably much more serious than he suspected and he needed to run more thorough tests. He had him holed up with Dr. Heart, who for some reason is a bit enamoured with Rodney and not at all shy about letting him know, for over two hours doing full body scans in the back room. I don't think there was more than fifteen seconds of silence the entire time as he yelled at her to stop man-handling him and cursed Carson back to the Stone Age where his medical voodoo would be of some use." Sheppard chuckled at the memory and Ronon snorted in amusement. Both men had sat out front with Carson the entire time McKay had been subjected to the nurse's clutches and Jerry smiled as he imagined it.

"McKay has the largest vocabulary I've ever heard," Ronon snorted as he unceremoniously shoved the last of his pudding into his mouth.

"What makes it dangerous is that he's not afraid to use it," Jerry agreed, and then waited for the question that he knew had been coming since Sheppard sat down. Sheppard didn't disappoint him.

"Just exactly how did you become involved in the Stargate program, Major?" Sheppard asked and Ronon looked over to Thompkins.

"Well, I did a bit more than sit in a chair, Colonel."

"Very funny," Sheppard responded dryly.

"I was a part of McKay's security detail," Thompkins responded and it was clear that was all he was going to say. He looked over to meet Sheppard's sharp green gaze as he watched him carefully, gauging each reaction as he had all lunch. The smile was still on his face but there was no amusement in his eyes. All at once Jerry knew he suspected how they'd met, but didn't have the definitive answers he wanted yet.

"I'm sorry Colonel, but it's not my story to tell. If you'll excuse me," he nodded to both men and stood. "There's an investigation I need to get back too." The colonel nodded back, looking disappointed but understanding at the same time. Despite the fact that he knew he wouldn't tell the Colonel how they met, he found his mind drifting to the past. Their meeting, he remembered, had been one of the worst meetings in his life. He could only imagine how McKay must have felt about it.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sheppard stood by the gate and watched carefully as Lorne and his team loaded the last box onto the cart. It was a group effort, because the box was just too heavy for one man to lift and John smiled pleasantly as Lorne turned and looked at him.

"Thanks for your help, sir."

"Anytime Major, all you need to do is say the word," which, if Lorne knew what was good for him, he wouldn't do. Sheppard had no problems with heavy lifting, but he wasn't about to go and haul around boxes that weren't his responsibility. That's why he was in command, and his soldiers knew it. He dropped his grin now though, as he watched the team of four do one last quick weapons check before the wormhole was engaged with its normal dramatic flare.

"Have fun," he called, which translated into be careful, don't piss off the natives, don't get shot, don't get killed and bring me back a cool souvenir. With the nod Lorne gave him he was satisfied that his message had been properly delivered and he watched as they disappeared through the Stargate and waited until it shut down before turning around to look up and over at Elizabeth from where she stood on the command balcony above, one hand resting lightly on the railing. He waved. She grinned, shook her head in exasperation and turned away to head back to her office.

It was impossible not to hear McKay's voice as he asked her if she'd seen him and he turned to head towards the stairs, knowing that the Canadian was probably looking for him for a reason. He'd barely taken two steps when his teammate appeared above and looked down at him.

"Ah, there you are Colonel," he pointed out, as though everyone else in the room needed to know Sheppard's exact whereabouts as well.

"Here I am," he agreed and held his arms out in display, just in case McKay hadn't made enough of a point.

"Are you busy right now? Because if you aren't, I have…" McKay leaned his arms on the railing, and then his full weight as he leaned over to get a better view of Sheppard. Then all hell broke loose as the scientist cut of mid sentence to give a startled cry and the railing he'd been leaning against gave out underneath his arms. Without warning McKay went toppling over the side, a startled look frozen on his face as his arms flailed wildly to try and find something, anything, that he could grab onto.

"McKay!!" John yelled, panic spiking through his body and giving him a burst of energy as he sprinted towards his falling friend. _Shit! Shit shit shit…_

Without thought he was underneath him and between one moment and the next he found himself flattened to the ground, all the air rushing out of him and he tried to curl in on his stomach. He couldn't do that though, since McKay was sprawled right across him and damn, the man was heavy!

"Okay, ow, that…hurt," he heard Rodney groan from above even as he began to slowly shift around. Then all movement seemed to freeze for a blessed second, before there was a litany of swearing and pushing, too much pushing on his stomach, as Rodney scrambled to get off of him at a speed that was normally reserved for running away from bad guys and certain death. As soon as the weight lifted from his chest he was able to suck in a huge lungful of air. He would never take breathing for granted again, ever. He lay there with his eyes closed, simply appreciating the act of his lungs expanding when there were suddenly hands cupping his face, tapping lightly but showing care not to move him. They were big hands, the calluses smooth but noticeable as they brushed across his cheeks.

"Oh, my god. John, John!" The panic in his friend's voice had him opening his eyes to find Rodney's face practically meshed with his own, the intelligent blue gaze staring intently into his. Hey, he'd called him John, in public, wow. He didn't think that had ever happened before. "Colonel? Are you alright? Are you alive? Speak to me?" With the return of his ability to breathe Sheppard found the sound of the room rushing back to meet him as he focused on his surroundings. He could see people gathered around him now, staring down with worry and he looked back at Rodney as his friend pulled back, giving him a bit more space.

"I'm alive. I'm good," he assured him, already moving around to try and sit up when Rodney's large, warm hands moved from his face onto his chest and gently held him down.

"Don't move! Are you an idiot! I just fell four meters and landed right on top of you! You could be dying for all I know." Dying? He did a quick inventory and deduced that he wasn't dying, a little sore maybe but that was it.

"You didn't fall on me, I caught you," he pointed out.

"Oh, is that what it's called these days? Great, I've been reduced to the status of a football. Don't move," he ordered, sharply as Sheppard tried to get up again, "you could be hurt."

"Nothing's hurt but my pride McKay, let me up." He could see the worry and indecision war on his friend's face, but after a moment it seemed Rodney was willing to trust his instincts and he pulled his hands away and then helped Sheppard first sit and then stand up. After a brief dizzy spell that passed as he gripped McKay's hand a moment longer than necessary, he was fine.

"What's goin' on? Are ye all alright here?" Beckett's worried voice cut through the crowd as he magically appeared with a team of medics and two gurney's. He stopped before them and looked anxiously back and forth between them, waiting for an answer.

"We're fine," Sheppard said and then repeated himself a little louder so people would take the hint and go back to work. He hated being gawked at by anxious, well meaning crowds. It just made him self-conscious.

"Speak for yourself, Colonel. I for one have bruises on top of my bruises," McKay huffed, and then his gaze was drawn upward and his face began to resemble a thunder cloud. Sheppard followed his gaze to the balcony above, seeing the railing hanging halfway off the level, bent awkwardly out of shape from having McKay's topple over it. Christ, that could have been bad.

"Jeeze McKay, you gain weight or something?"

"Oh, very funny, Colonel."

"I thought so."

"Beckett, I think the man needs a full MRI, he obviously hit his head harder than we thought," Rodney declared, still staring angrily at the railing. Thank god it was the shortest balcony in here, because if Rodney had fallen from any of the other ones Sheppard doubted they would have gotten away with only a few bruises. How the hell had it broken like that anyway?

A moment later Beckett had them on the gurneys, despite their loud, and in McKay's case very loud, protests. There were scans and some poking, prodding, and carefully formed questions of 'does it hurt here?' 'Yes you quack, that's why it's turning blue!' before they were both declared okay but for a few sore spots.

Rodney stepped off his bed, wincing slightly as it jarred his sore tail bone, and marched out of the room without another word and a very determined and decidedly dangerous look on his face.

"Oy, somebody's in trouble," Carson muttered before turning back to Sheppard as he too got off his bunk. He was just happy they were okay and only had a few bruises to contend with. Actually, he felt like he usually did after sparring with Ronon, so he knew he'd be fine.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dr. Strat stood beside the organized lab bench and watched as Dr. Zambri worked diligently, her deft fingers examining some type of tool that he couldn't even begin to guess at. He watched her silently, waiting for her to finish and, after another minute she dotted down some notes and then turned to him, a bright smile on her pretty face. He wasn't used to being so happily received and he blinked a moment before regaining his unruffled appearance.

"How can I help you, Dr. Strat?"

"I have a few questions about Dr. McKay, actually. Do you have a minute?"

"Sure I do." She smiled again and then snapped her gum, loudly.

"I understand that you've been in Atlantis for seven months now, correct?"

"That is correct, Doctor." He nodded and then looked up from his notepad, to see her gaze drop from his face, down to his knee area and back up again, the smile still firmly in place. His eyes widened in surprise, did she just check him out?

"Right. On a professional level, do you have any complaints about the way he runs the labs?"

"No," she snapped her gum again, watching him.

"Really? Not even with the way he interacts with yourself or the staff?"

"No," she blinked at him, and then her eyes focused on his lips for a moment too long before pulling up to look at him directly. Was she seriously…she was hitting on him! He was sure of it!

"If I understand correctly you didn't feel that way when you first arrived here in Atlantis," he responded, trying to dig deeper.

"Really? Who told you that?" Her smile remained pleasant enough, and she snapped her gum again, but he didn't bother mentioning that Dr. Evangelista had been the one to tell him.

"That doesn't matter." Her eyes had fallen to watch his mouth again and he began to become a bit…uncomfortable. This was not the way a professional should respond in such situations, though he was discovering that many of the people in Atlantis weren't quite as…normal as he had expected them to be. Mind you, considering their chosen work location that should have maybe been his first clue.

"Is there anything at all you'd like to tell me about your opinions of him professionally? Anything specific that comes to mind about his performance?" Her eyes lit up with enthusiasm suddenly and he forced himself not to take a step back as her smile grew almost predatory.

"Dr. McKay is, quite frankly, the most amazing individual I have ever worked under…in a professional capacity that is," she winked. "Frankly, I have no problems following his commands, or his lead, the man is brilliant after all."

"I see," and she seemed happy that he did. "What do you think of him on a more personal level?" He inwardly cringed as he asked that, wondering why it hadn't sounded so silly the last forty times he'd said the same exact words. She snapped her gum again, and then leaned closer to him, making the entire situation more personal than he was comfortable with.

"I owe the man my life, Doctor, more than once. But beyond that, the man is hot."

"Excuse me?" He stammered, he actually stammered, and she grinned at him like they were sharing some kind of secret.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to him, and that's not just because of his looks, though those eyes are to die for and his arms, and those broad shoulders…nice. Seriously though, that dominant 'don't piss me off' thing he has going for him? All that confidence and attitude, I'll be damned if that doesn't do more for me than anyone else in this city." He swallowed, hard.

"Right, well then, I think that's all the questions I have for now," he said, taking a few quick steps back.

"Sure, if you need anything else, you know where to find me." The snap of her gum chased him out of the lab and relief flooded him as he escaped into the well-lit corridor.

He walked a few steps away and then paused, his head clearer now that he wasn't so overwhelmed with the beautiful Italian's presence. He couldn't help but feel that things weren't right here. He'd been getting the feeling, since his second day, that he was somehow being stone walled, but he hadn't been able to find any proof. If this was the case, then it was the best stonewall he'd ever been subjected to. Suddenly there were peels of laughter coming from the lab he had just vacated. The loud guffaws and high giggle of at least four people flowed out the open door into the hall way and he stared in the direction the sound came from. So, he was being stone walled, and apparently more than a few of the scientists were in on it. That was interesting. Very, very interesting.

* * * * * * * * * *

"I apologize for keeping everyone waiting." Weir stepped into the room and, after a quick nod to Sheppard the glass doors all around them sealed shut, cutting everyone in the room off from prying eyes. She sat down and then looked at the small gathering. Teyla sat stoically to Ronon's left and Sheppard to his right. Across from them sat the Major, Carson, and Zelenka, whose hair seemed to be flatter than was usual today. He looked tired, but after all the work they were putting in to prepare for the mission to the underwater science station it wasn't a surprise. Ronon was still watching Thompkins but listened as Weir began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming, I wish it were for better news," she started, looking at everyone in the room. "Major Thompkins has been reviewing our accident reports for the last six months, with an eye to the investigation into Greenwall's activities and the possibility that there may yet be a Trust operative still working in Atlantis. The concerns Major Thompkins has brought to our attention so far appear to be valid." Someone was trying to kill McKay. Somehow that didn't surprise Ronon in the least.

"I'm sensing a 'but' in there," Sheppard drawled, leaning back in his seat casually.

"You would be right, Colonel. I understand that there have been instances over the past months that could come across as suspicious, but they were all logged as accidents by everyone involved, including Rodney."

"That's true, but we don't know who the possible aggressor is, and considering the highly intelligent people posted here in the city it is very likely that they know enough to be able to sabotage the technology and make it look like an accident," Thompkins pointed out.

"I'm not ruling out the possibility that someone isn't trying to kill," her voice faltered slightly on the word, "Rodney, but I'm not willing to subject the entire base to an investigation. We've been in this situation before and frankly the suspicion it creates will do more damage than any attack could. I will not allow for that to happen again." There were nods of agreement around the table and Ronon remembered how upset she had been about the idea of interrogating that scientist, Kavanagh. He could respect that, even if he didn't agree with it. Sometimes you had to do what was necessary or you could end up with a lot of dead people, or dead friends. Weir seemed to gain a bit more confidence though, as everyone in the room, with the exception of Thompkins who appeared to remain neutral, agreed with her.

"Well then, what should we do? At the very least Rodney should be here with us, I think this is something he needs to know about," Carson spoke up, his strange accent thicker than normal. Ronon continued to stare at Thompkins, wondering how much longer the man could pretend to ignore him.

"No, that's a bad idea," Sheppard immediately countered.

"I agree," Weir said with a sigh. "I want to tell him and he has the right to know, obviously, but Rodney doesn't always deal with these situations well."

"We need to keep the aggressor in the dark, make sure they don't know we're on to them. If we tell Rodney he won't be able to pretend he doesn't know and then whoever it is that's trying to kill him will go into even deeper hiding." Sheppard explained to Beckett, who nodded in reluctant agreement.

"So what? We stalk him again?" Zelenka asked and Ronon smirked at the idea, and at the look that crossed Major Thompkins face.

"Stalk him again? Has this happened before?" He looked at Sheppard in question, and the Colonel grinned smugly.

"We set up a team of people to keep an eye on McKay when Greenwall was in town, that way we knew where he was at all times and could keep him safe."

"But I fear it will not be so easy this time," Teyla cut in, looking around the table. "If we are to keep our awareness that he is in danger a secret, then we can not risk involving as many people in watching him."

"I agree. Colonel, we're going to have to set up a system that involves just the people in this room."

"No problem."

"It'll be difficult if we're going to try and make it not seem suspicious," Thompkins replied.

"Not so difficult," Sheppard instantly countered, and then quirked his lips at the soldier. "Ronon has been watching you since you arrived and you had no idea. We can set up a system." Thompkins finally looked at Ronon, his face mostly impassive but for the slight crinkling around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. Oh yeah, he was irritated by that. Ronon grinned wolfishly at him and he looked away.

"Fine, but I want you to keep in mind that we have yet to find any real evidence that Rodney is in danger and until we do this is just a precaution."

"Doctor Beckett, your assistance is required in the infirmary," a voice infiltrated their meeting room from a speaker set somewhere in the ceiling and Beckett was on his feet before the voice had even finished.

"I'm on my way, what's the problem?"

"Dr. McKay had an accident, sir." With that the entire room lunged to their feet and followed the doctor out of the room in a rush. The sudden wave of people flooding from the office into the control room startled those on duty and they hurriedly threw themselves out of the way as the mass flowed past and out into the corridor. Ronon was at the head of the pack, but behind Beckett who seemed to have learned how to travel at the speed of light. It never ceased to amaze him how fast the Doctor could move when he had reason. It was impressive actually.

It was only moments later that they all barged into the infirmary and his vision zeroed in on McKay, who was sitting on a bed across the way with a disgruntled look on his face, and Beckett, who was already asking him questions. At their entrance Rodney glanced up and a look of surprise swept across his face before being replaced with annoyance as Beckett called for his attention again.

"I'm fine! They didn't need to call you, it's not like I'm dying or anything."

"You almost did, sir," a soldier standing beside a nurse pointed out and Rodney looked at him like he wanted to crush him between his fingers.

"But I didn't, and that's the whole point, isn't it? Carson, seriously, I don't even have a scratch," he complained, but made no effort to get off the bed as the doctor took some quick readings.

"He was hyperventilating," the soldier informed Carson, only to visibly cringe as McKay looked back at him. Ronon would have to spend more time in the gym with that man, because if he was actually afraid of McKay…

"I was having a _minor_ panic attack. Which is a perfectly reasonable reaction when you are almost incinerated by an Ancient trash compactor! I think the situation warranted it, but I'm better now," he turned back to Carson, "and I have work I need to get back to," and then he looked at their crowd as they stood just inside the infirmary doors, "not that I don't appreciate the concern or anything."

"What happened, Rodney?" Carson said, stepping back and nodding to them to say that Rodney actually was okay.

"There was a problem with the incineration triggering mechanism. I went to check it out and when I entered the chute, which I checked three times to make sure it was safe," he hastily added, lest anyone think he would just waltz into a malfunctioning incinerator, "the door malfunctioned and locked me in. Then, naturally, it decided that that was as good a time as any to have a little garbage bonfire and began to power up. I barely managed to get the door open in time to jump out and close it again before the damn thing combusted everything inside. That's when Rambo here decided I needed to see the doctor and viola, here I am." He crossed his arms across his chest and Ronon could see that the scientist was still a little shaken up from the incident, but otherwise seemed to be fine. Carson, however, looked like he might have his own little panic attack.

"Rodney, I can't believe it was that close!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air and Zelenka was cursing up a storm in Czech as he stormed up to Rodney and kept spitting out gibberish, and poking him in the chest. This only seemed to irritate Rodney as he puckered his lips and glared, waiting a moment until Zelenka stopped his tirade.

"Well, excuse me if all the tests I did indicated that it was perfectly safe. I took Sergeant Goody-too-shoos here along and frankly if someone else had actually been trapped with me I doubt I would have been able to concentrate enough over their screaming to save us." Zelenka threw his arms in the air much the same way Carson had moments before, spit out a few more unintelligible words and Rodney decided it was time to get off the bed, rolling his eyes.

"I know this is the second time I almost died today," the Canadian rolled his eyes and then seemed to realize what he'd just said. "Oh my god! That's the second time I almost died today! This is almost as bad as going off world!"

"Hey, we usually only almost die once when we go off world," Sheppard countered indignantly and Rodney halted the beginnings of his second panic attack and looked pointedly at Sheppard.

"Right, because that makes this whole situation so much better." Then Radek said a few more choice words and stalked out of the room with Rodney staring after him before his eyes snapped in anger and he raised an arm to point at the retreating scientist.

"That is not fair!" and then he was stalking after him. "And don't insult my cats!" He cut around the group and was just heading out the door when Sheppard, looking puzzled, called after him.

"Since when did you start speaking Czech, McKay?"

"Do I sound like I'm speaking Czech, Colonel? Honestly, just when you think the man might have a modicum of intelligence and then he goes and says something like that," and his voice disappeared down the hall. Sheppard looked at Thompkins, who seemed to be a little stunned by the whirlwind of emotions that they had just been bombarded with and he smirked.

"Don't worry, Major. You get used to it."

"Oh I know, it's just been a while," the investigator said and Sheppard's smirk fell from his face, his professional mask slipping back into place. Interesting.

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but I have work to get back to," he announced and then looked pointedly at Weir. She nodded at him, her pale green eyes saying more than words and Sheppard nodded back. It looked like the stalking of McKay was about to begin, again, and Ronon left to begin making his own plans

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a complete waste of his time, Rodney thought, time that should be spent sleeping or going over reports that were actually pertinent to his status or, at the very least, interesting. Despite the fact that he already knew everything that was in the declassified folder lying closed before him, he hadn't been able to resist looking at it.

Oh, he had tried to avoid reading this report, but it sat here lurking on his quarter's desk, taunting him. He wasn't arrogant enough to think that they'd request his permission to place the document in circulation for this investigation, but he should have been informed of its status as soon as it changed. The only reason he had hadn't lost his temper completely was that Thompkins had been just as pissed as he was. Well, maybe not quite on the same level, but the anger had been there and it had been nice to have support in his corner in that instance. Also, the hard to miss presence of Sheppard and Weir had made it difficult to yell the way he really wanted.

He stared at the manila folder; the bold red 'CLASSIFIED' stamp that had been blazed across its front was now scratched out with what looked like a thick black Sharpie and beneath it, in another bold red stamp, it read 'DECLASSIFIED.' Despite the fact that he knew what was typed on the pages inside, with more insight than the person who wrote the damn thing, he had never read it. Oh no, once they had declared his abduction 'solved' it had been classified and filed in the pentagon vault before he had even been a day in the hospital. All against his protests of course, but back then nobody had given a flying…they had been more interested in preserving good will among the nations involved than with his personal rights and he had been under orders to forget the entire thing had ever happened.

Right.

Perhaps he should also forget about the existence of gravity, the fact that the laws of physics are not absolute, and that good old maple syrup kicks Aunt Jemima's ass any day. It wasn't going to happen, there was not a chance in hell he could forget, but he'd had no choice. It was forget about 'it' or forget about the Stargate program altogether. The Stargate program, as sad as it was to say, was really all he had had going for him. It was his sanctuary, a haven of intellectual stimulation that he needed. So he had allowed his ordeal to be shoved under the carpet and forgotten about. Hell, it had never existed and the injustice of it had burned within and it had taken him a long time to come to grips with it as much as he could.

The real reason he was so angry, though, hadn't been because they'd decided to pretend he'd never been tortured or forget the fact that he had never given in. No, the anger and resentment was because he _knew_ Greenwall had been behind his abduction. He knew it and when he had informed the program of his suspicions they hadn't believed him. What was it about him that made everyone think he was lying? But no, Rodney had had no proof that Greenwall was involved, and aggravatingly enough it wasn't the first time he had been lacking evidence.

Needless to say, once again Greenwall had gotten away with it. He'd even taken some of Rodney's key finds, things that Greenwall had _known_ Rodney hadn't mentioned to anyone back in Area 51, and presented them as his own to boost his status among the scientific community yet again.

Rodney had agreed to remain quiet, allowing for the classification (as if he had a choice) of his ordeal, but he had refused to return to Area 51. Not a chance in hell and if they wanted him to remain in the program, which they really, really did, then they'd have to come up with something better than that because he refused to work anywhere near Greenwall again. He wanted far away, and he had then been assigned to work directly under the Chief of Staff himself. He had taken great pride in letting Greenwall know of his promotion.

His eyes were becoming dry from staring at the red 'DECLASSIFIED' stamp.

Without any further hesitation he flipped open the file, speed reading to check what was in there and glossing over the pictures in the medical section. He didn't need to see them, or read about what had been done. Instead he updated himself on how the investigators read into the situation and who was suspected to have been involved. They certainly were thorough, he'd give them that much at least.

He slapped the file closed. There, he'd fed his curiosity and now, perhaps, he could finally get some sleep. However, now that all the memories were coming back to him he somehow doubted sleep would be on his agenda that night and as he lay on his prescription mattress he couldn't help but wonder how long it would be before Dr. Strat placed the file in front of the other three people in charge of Atlantis. How long it would be before they looked at him differently, before their relationships changed indefinitely.

He didn't get much sleep that night at all.

* * * * * * * * * *


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

* * * * * * * * * *

**China, 2000**

The building looked like any other warehouse in the busy, overstocked warehouse district of Beijing. It hadn't stopped drizzling for several days, and the area smelt faintly of rotting garbage. At least it wasn't the fishing district, he thought to himself as he carefully walked along the wall, weapon clutched securely in his arms. Two men, McGill and Saunders, were ahead of him while Sloan, Munroe and Hink covered the rear. He knew there was another team entering from the other end of the building. It wouldn't be long before they were inside; he just really hoped the cover of darkness would work to their advantage.

His team leader stopped sharply and held up his hand. As one they froze behind him and Thompkins waited in tense silence as the other team pulled into position. He was clear on the layout of the building they were about to storm, he could see everything easily enough through his night vision goggles and he understood that this was a retrieval operation for a man who had been taken four days earlier. Frankly he thought the entire operation was rushed. The extraction team consisted of twelve men armed to the teeth who had been thrown together at the last minute with the understanding that they would be sent on this rescue mission.

He wasn't complaining, as they had given him some really cool weapons to add to his own, but he thought the chances of this person still being alive were extremely slim. Four days was a long time to be in enemy hands, Thompkins just hoped the man they were rescuing was important enough to keep alive for a while. He knew next to nothing of their target. They had only been given a photo for identification purposes, but the general vibe from the mission debrief was that his superiors doubted the individual's ability to survive. He was guessing the rushed extraction was in the hopes that the missing person wouldn't be able to leak any more government secrets.

Whatever was going on, he was ready for it. He had been wired since the moment he knew he was going on this mission and now he just wanted to get on with it. Despite what people thought, he wasn't a very patient man.

There was a sudden crackle in his ear and he listened intently as a few clipped, rushed instructions filtered through and they were finally moving. The side door opened easily as it wasn't locked. Apparently they hadn't expecting anyone to wander into this place…or maybe they had. He scanned his surroundings quickly as they fanned out, slipping between crates piled high to the ceiling. It was eerily still here; it felt like it hadn't been visited for a while.

Munroe and Saunders climbed the stairs along the side of the wall to the offices that overlooked the space and reported the area secure almost immediately. It wasn't that big for a warehouse and there was a coating of dust that had been unnoticeable on the crates, as they had moved in so quickly. The place was secure, but Thompkins didn't like it. There was no sign of life here, and obviously no sign of their target, but he felt they were missing something.

It was as they were heading out that he spotted the ratty area carpet that lay near the stairs to the office. The area carpet that didn't seem to be as dusty as the rest of the building's merchandise. He moved to it and carefully dragged it out of the way, revealing a hatch built right into the floor.

"I've located an entrance to get below," he called softly. In moments five men were positioned in secure locations around the building and Thompkins stood a few feet from the hatch next to Munroe who was crouched down, their weapons pointed directly at it. On a count of three it was lifted open, and the damn thing didn't make a sound. It was well oiled.

There was a faint light coming from below but no sign of any guards. Quickly he took point, descending the stairs and rushing up the narrow corridor to where it turned. Falling to one knee he quickly looked into the next corridor, his finger lying lightly on the trigger, ready for anything. There was no one there but he could see that these underground corridors were larger than the warehouse above, and it looked like this corridor branched into a t-junction up ahead. There was light coming from those corridors, and, listening very carefully, he thought he heard a sound. He couldn't be certain.

Saunders remained to guard their exit and the rest of the team moved forward as one, almost as silent as ghosts. His nerves were tingling, his breath coming a bit faster and he knew they were almost at their target. There was light in the next corridor, but it stretched in two directions. He went left, McGill and Munroe followed him and the other three men turned right without hesitation.

In the new brightness he was forced to take off his goggles and he placed them on the ground against the corridor wall as quietly as possible. He hoped nobody stepped on them, because he wouldn't but it past the bureaucrats to charge him for misused equipment. They slowed as they came to their first door and the noise he had thought he'd heard earlier became louder. He still couldn't place it, but he immediately noticed that there seemed to be a water trail leading either away from or into this room, mixing with the grime on the cemented floor.

McGill held up three fingers and did a silent count. On zero Thompkins twisted the brass knob and swung the heavy door inward, instantly following after his teammates as they entered the room low and searched for unfriendlies. There were no people in the room, but what was lying about in various places had him freezing a moment as comprehension sank in. There wasn't much, just a generator, a chair secured to the ground and, in one corner, an old claw-toed bath tub half filled with water. The rest of the scattered water seemed to be cleaning the floor. He met Munroe's eyes, seeing bitter distaste in the deep brown orbs and he noticed the dark fingers clutch their weapon a bit tighter than necessary. McGill seemed undaunted as he moved back to the door, but his back was stiffer now, if that was possible, and the three of them followed the water trail that was leaving the room they vacated.

They crossed to the next room quickly and carefully; following the water trail but cautious of their surroundings and the need to secure their exit route. The second room was clear but there'd been two men in the third room, and the sounds from a television broadcast to hide their movements as they passed. At a signal from McGill, Sloan stepped back to watch the men.

It wasn't long until the sound of muffled voices and the impact of fists on flesh carried through the narrow hallway. Another set of body blows, followed by a low moan and it didn't take much imagination to fill in the rest of the gaps. They had found their man.

"_Why you don't…so easy…just have to build one…be okay." The broken comment was met with silence for a second, and then a coughing fit seemed to take hold of someone. By now they were standing right outside the door, and preparing to move. The same voice from before came again. The speaker sounded so sad, so resigned, it made Thompkins want to hit him and he didn't even know what was going on yet._

"Okay Doctor, I understand your hesitation, I truly do. Perhaps you'll be more accommodating after you've rested a bit." There were the sounds of chairs scraping and then a startled, raspy exclamation.

"What? No! I can't…don't do this, please…stop…" Their actions were quick and calculated, looking more like a team that had been working together for years as opposed to mere days. Munroe twisted the door knob and pushed it open in one smooth move. Thompkins leaned around the door frame aiming straight ahead as McGill perched on one knee in the middle of the door frame and automatically swept first left and then right. The resistance, if it could be called that, was taken down immediately. Thompkins squeezed the trigger, hitting the second man at the far end of the room as they had looked up in surprise. The person they had been dragging between them collapsed to the floor along with the corpses and the moment he had been released he scrambled to the other side of the room, his hands slapping loudly at the ground in his panicked struggle, his gaze shifting around wildly. Thompkins looked to see the one other occupant of the room lying still by a table to the side, a chair overturned by his feet, a gun clutched in now slack fingers that were being swallowed by a red pool of his own blood. An angry Munroe stood over him, glaring at the body.

"Secure!" Munroe barked.

"Secure!" He responded and McGill followed suite. There had been no orders for a live take down; the enemy was dead. The team leader looked at their target, now crushed into the room's far corner, then looked at Thompkins and nodded. He wasted no time as he clicked the safety on his weapon and handed the large gun to Munroe before walking across the room slowly, taking a good look at the man they had come to rescue.

_He didn't look good._

He was dressed in nothing but a black t-shirt and a pair of boxers. His clothing was dripping wet and his skin was too pale, even for someone who spent a total of two hours in the sun a year. He had pulled his knees up to his chest and was attempting to hug them there, but in his weakened state he kept losing his grip and releasing them. His hands were shaking, in fact his entire body was shaking, which could have been caused for any number of reasons considering his distress.

There was deep bruising around his wrists and some peeking out from beneath his torn collar. Then he looked up, sharply, his bruised face and split lip, still bleeding down his chin. His eyes, one swollen shut but the other wide and bloodshot, were such a cold blue that it startled Thompkins and he slowed his approach even more, holding his hands out placatingly. The glare he received was withering, but more than that, it had a desperate edge to it.

"I'm not going back in there." What? Thompkins frowned at him and this seemed to increase the man's agitation. "I'm not! You hear me! Not going! Not not not not not!" Thompkins looked behind him, following the somewhat desperate gaze of the doctor, and he saw a small box on the other side of the room, near the two men he had shot. The box might have held a large child. He looked back at the trembling man before him, noting the filth beneath his wet clothing, the overpowering human stench that a dunk in the tub hadn't removed, and wondered how long they'd kept him in there.

"Relax Doctor, you don't have to do anything you don't want to." That seemed to confuse him a moment, and then he tried to curl in on himself again. There was some commotion behind him and Thompkins turned to see two soldiers had arrived with a gurney. With the perimeter secure they were willing to take a few minutes to calm the victim, but he doubted they could wait too long.

"Doctor, my name is Jerry. I'm with the United States Marines. We're here to rescue you." God, that sounded so cliché, but the man's cold blue eyes were staring daggers at him again instead of ignoring him. His tremors were increasing. He stared a long moment and Jerry did his best to look back as confidently as he could, crouched before this stranger. Then, surprisingly easily, the doctor apparently made the decision to trust him. Just like that the man unwrapped his arms from his legs and moved to push off the wall. Instead he began listing to the side.

"Hey, easy there." He reached out to steady him, ignoring the flinch and holding on gently. The gurney was there in seconds and he helped roll him on.

"No straps," the silent man suddenly demanded, his voice harsh in the subdued atmosphere of the room. It carried authority.

"I'm sorry sir, but we have to. We'll leave your arms free."

"_Fine," was the tired reply. As Thompkins helped put the strap over his chest he caught a glimpse of the man's forearm, mottled with needle tracks and bruising, and when he looked back at the doctor's face, the doctor was staring at him, guarded, solemn, fragile. He squeezed his shoulder once, gently, and then took the stretcher's handles by his head and carried him out._

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

Blue eyes. He had blue, blue eyes that sometimes bordered on grey depending on his mood and what he was wearing. He leaned closer to the mirror, watching how his pupils shrank the closer he got, and then he pulled back quickly and watched how they expanded. Huh…that really wasn't all that interesting, actually. Sighing he rubbed a tired hand through his wet hair, making it stick up in a fit of Sheppard envy. He glared at that too, before deciding to just leave it alone and brush his teeth.

He left his small bathroom with its stand up shower and odd ancient plumbing to be greeted by two sets of brown-green eyes that stared at him in the dim light. Then Ernie bounded forward to flop unceremoniously at his feet.

"Mreeeooowwww. Mrrrow. Mrow." She rolled on her back and chirped up at him expectantly. Just like she did every morning, and when he got home…and every time she wanted food.

"I'm not feeding you for at least half an hour," he declared firmly and stepped over her, taking a moment to poke her belly with his bare foot.

"Mrow, mrrrrrrew," she jumped up and followed him to his bed, and then to his small closet, and then back to his bed and by the time he'd managed to pull on his boxers and pants he'd almost tripped over her four times and decided that feeding her would be better than being grounded for a broken arm or something. She wound her way around his legs affectionately as he filled their food bowl and then promptly ignored him in favor of eating. He probably should have named her after Ronon based on her never ending appetite, or maybe Ronnetta. Regardless he shuffled away from the pseudo kitchen of his quarters and sat heavily on his unmade bed, before falling backwards to lie sprawled in the mess of blankets.

It had been another restless night and he'd woken up an hour before his alarm yet again, bathed in a cold sweat and breathing heavily with images of small metal cages and Griffon with his grey eyes and his stupid moustache clear in his mind. Seriously, he'd hardly ever had troubles sleeping like this before Atlantis, so long as he discounted the whole China thing, and most of his adolescence, and that one unfortunate evening in Siberia where he'd been practically forced at gunpoint to be that hypnotist's subject. No one ever told him that going to the Pegasus galaxy was the equivalent of agreeing to never sleep properly again.

Okay, it wasn't really that bad all the time. He had his nightmares, and stress tended to bring them to the forefront when he found the time to sleep, but over all he was well adjusted. It's just that the last month had been a bit more difficult than he cared to admit and with Thompkins being there, despite the fact that he generally liked the man, it just brought more bad memories to the foreground. It had been bad enough having Greenwall dredge that past up in the first place.

The bed dipped slightly and a soft purring drifted to his ears before a tiny face peered close to his, sniffing curiously around his cheek.

"Hello Max," he muttered, moving enough to bring a hand around to scratch behind the cat's ear a moment. Max merely went on sniffing and then wandered off somewhere behind his head. Of the two animals Max was the quieter one, but he didn't like to be fussed over like Ernie did, unless he asked for the attention. Yet he always seemed to be the one that was around when Rodney was trying to collect himself after his dreams. While Rodney had made no effort to thank whoever it was that managed to sneak the illegal pets to Atlantis he was at times profoundly grateful for their presence. That was why he usually put the animals in the common room a few doors away from the main cafeteria; it was good for the cats to socialize, but it also gave the others a chance to bask in their presence as well. Rodney wasn't completely selfish after all.

"You two are going to be the reason people stop being afraid of me," he declared, only to have Max stick his face back in Rodney's. When he started to look like he was contemplating crawling onto his bare chest he decided he should get moving before he turned into a pincushion. Levering himself back up he was met by Ernie twirling around his legs. He was tired, but lying around here wasn't going to change that, as he was never good at falling back to sleep after a nightmare. So he finished dressing quickly and headed to the main cafeteria, hoping they had some of those chocolate chip muffins they'd been serving the day before.

* * * * * * * * * *

He was warm, he was comfortable and he was adrift on the edge of sleep, his mind cocooned in the hazy thickness that came with being dead to the world. It was absolute heaven, the only problem was that he shouldn't be on the edge; he should have still been over the edge and caught in the obliviousness of deep sleep. And the longer he lay there, his body buried under his blankets and muscles nothing more than sagging lumps of flesh trying to melt into the mattress, he had to wonder why he was becoming more and more aware of his physical state.

The longer he lay their contemplating it the more the haze began to lift from his mind and his state of lethargy slowly began to evaporate. As he began to focus he became aware of two things: there was a strange, squawking noise coming from somewhere to his left, and he needed to use the facilities. But neither of those facts struck him as important as he remained right where he was, completely happy. But that strange, squawking noise just wasn't going away…it sounded like it was…words…

"…Strat…time to…you were the one who…oh…ridiculous…patch me through…speakers…" he cracked open his eyes to stare blearily at his radio sitting on the night stand. It had sounded like it might be McKay, but what was he calling him about-

"DOCTOR STRAT? HELLOOOO? ARE YOU EVEN IN YOUR ASSIGNED QUARTERS? RESPOND!"

He shot up in bed, sucking in a deep breath as the booming voice echoed around his room and reverberated in his head and his right arm dashed out to snatch up the glasses that were sitting by his radio. His heart was hammering in his chest, threatening to leap out from under his rib cage as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. What the hell was that all about! Still trying to calm himself from the shock he clumsily reached over for the earpiece.

"DOCTOR STRAT, YOU ARE WASTING PRECIOUS TIME HERE. ARE YOU HEARING ME? IT'S MCKAY!" _no kidding, _he thought, "RESPOND!"

"I'm here," he swallowed thickly to try and get rid of the croak in his throat and knowing he hadn't succeeded. "I'm here, what is it you needed, Dr. McKay?" Because he really couldn't think of any reason the leader of Atlantis's science division would be contacting him at, he looked at his watch, 4:17 in the morning! Oh, this had better be good.

"What is it I needed? Are you serious?" McKay's voice sounded tiny and far away in the small ear piece, but it somehow managed to portray his irritation and exasperation perfectly.

"Umm, yes, I am." There was a long pause which only irritated Strat, because McKay was the one waking him up. If anyone had the right to be annoyed it should be him.

"If I remember correctly, which I know I do, it was just yesterday evening that you informed me of your intentions to follow me around all day today, and in accordance with your _request,_" the word was pronounced very crisply, "I am letting you know that the day has begun." Strat looked back at his watch and blinked again. It was 4:18 AM. Was this some kind of sick joke? He had finally cornered the man in his main lab last evening and requested that McKay inform him when he began work so he could follow along for the day, that was true, but it was…really early.

"Oh," he responded, his brain not quite functioning on all cylinders yet. It was 4:19 in the morning, what did they expect? "Right. Forgive me, I wasn't expecting you to call so early," he responded, hoping to save a little face. He didn't want to step on the man's toes or make his job any more difficult; he just needed to see him in action for a while before finishing his final report. It had been remarkably difficult to actually find him these last few days and he figured making actual plans to sit in on his work day would be the best method to observe him working.

"Yes, yes, whatever. I'm in the main lab, you can meet me here. McKay out." Okay then…it looked like the day had begun. He had been told that McKay usually worked strange hours but this was a little ridiculous even for him. He wondered if this was a petty attempt to make his day more tedious as payback for his insistence to follow him around. Whether or not that was the case, there was no call for him to be so abrupt about it. If he had just let Strat know when he was beginning his work day he would have met up with him on time, no problem. When he had investigated Dr. Carter he had found she worked interesting hours as well, but she at least had the courtesy to arrange meetings with him and she had been polite about it the entire way, even if she hadn't been overly enthusiastic. Dr. McKay was less than enthusiastic, and he made no effort to hide it. It was refreshing, if tiring, and he still wasn't sure how he felt about it beyond extreme irritation.

However, irritation aside he had a job to do and without further thought he untangled himself from his warm nest of blankets and, after a quick shower and a stop to the mess for something to start the day he was on his way. The city was quieter than he had experienced during the day, but he was still surprised by the overall traffic of both military and scientific personnel that were up and about. He smiled at a nurse who walked by him and she nodded tiredly back and he decided she must have just finished her shift despite the odd hour. A few more short hallways and he stepped through the open doors to the spacious lab that had been dubbed the 'main lab' in Atlantis. He had been informed that this was not because it was where the majority of work was done, but because it was the largest and most central location to most of the other labs. He knew McKay's work station, when he was actually working at it (which apparently wasn't often as every time he had gone there he had only found Dr. Zelenka, who watched him with wide, innocent, devious eyes and didn't stop until he left), was directly across the hall. However he had been informed that the esteemed astrophysicist was only there when examining ancient technology that actually fit on or around his station or when he was just using his computer.

Not seeing the Canadian anywhere in sight as he had expected he looked at the one woman in the room.

"Dr. Sauder, good morning," he called out after a moment of trying to remember her name, and she looked up from her computer.

"Good morning, Dr. Strat. Is there something you needed?" She did not even attempt a smile as she stared at him with disinterest.

"I'm looking for Dr. McKay. He told me to meet him here."

"That was twenty minutes ago. He had to go to the control room," she said, looking back to her work and abruptly dismissing him. He thanked her as he headed out the door and a moment later he arrived at the transporter around the corner. Atlantis wasn't particularly difficult to navigate once you became familiar with it and so far he was glad he hadn't had much difficulty finding his way to many of the main sections. However, as happy as he was about being able to navigate the main sections of the city he was annoyed that he had to go to the command center when he had been instructed to meet McKay in the labs. The man should have informed him of the change in plan and he was beginning to wonder if this would be a wasted day as he went from one location to the next while never catching up to the man.

Stepping out of the small lift he oriented himself, his skin tingling slightly for only a moment after he had rematerialized, and he began heading the short distance to the gate room. He could already see the sunlight that filtered through the massive windows of the beautiful room, despite the early hour of the day; he was still getting used to the longer day shorter night cycles of the planet. However, he never made it to his destination as the man he was looking for suddenly burst through one of the side doors that led to the control center. He was moving incredibly fast for someone who was looking at an electronic notepad instead of where he was walking, which was on a steamroller path right into three marines who looked like they were big enough to be their own football team.

He was about to yell out a warning, because in his experience marines of that size rarely moved from the path most trodden, especially when they flocked in groups. But it turned out he didn't have to worry at all when they reached collision course as, like magic, the three men simultaneously stepped to the sides of the hall as McKay barreled past, not missing a step. One of the men even cast an amused look at the shorter scientist as he called out a good morning and received nothing but a distracted wave that was more of a dismissal than anything else. Huh.

"Dr. McKay," he greeted quickly as the man reached his position and he fell into place beside him.

"Yes, what is it?" He didn't even look up from what he was reading and the annoyance flared within Strat again.

"It's nothing in particular, I'll just be joining you for your day now," he responded, maybe a bit more testily than he usually might but really, he didn't like being barely acknowledged and he really didn't know what else to say in response to the ignorant question. Blue eyes finally slid over to look at him and narrowed in a moment of irritation and then turned to resignation. Strat wondered if McKay had decided he'd changed his mind after not showing up in the lab _immediately_ after being beckoned and was now surprised to see him.

"Oh, it's you. Right, well, just stay out of my way unless I need you and if you could refrain from asking any stupid questions that would be appreciated." Oh, this was going to be a wonderful day, but he found himself actually looking forward to it despite his misgivings. He was bound to learn some new things about Atlantis, if nothing else.

"I'm just here to observe, Doctor."

"Right, right, that's fine…" he waived his hand back at the control room even as they stepped into the lift and selected a destination all the while looking at his portable computer. "We run scans on the DHD and sensor equipment every two days in order to maintain the systems and try to catch any problems that may arise due to the integration of our technology with the city," he explained suddenly, surprisingly. "Everything in the system seems to be running normally so far, but we need to take a look at a mother board in sub-control room 8. The power levels decreased abnormally several times in the last few hours and nobody has been able to determine what the problem is," McKay informed him as they entered his lab and he grabbed a few tools from various places around the room without even acknowledging any of the four scientists currently working in there. They seemed to ignore him right back, but one in particular shrank in his seat a bit, as if the action would make him less noticeable.

"Here," McKay suddenly thrust a box out to him, practically shoving it in his chest and Strat grabbed it hastily, nearly dropping it as the weight took him completely by surprise. He was unprepared for the nasty glare that was suddenly aimed at him from the one person in the city who should be treating him with the most professionalism.

"I've got it," Strat found himself automatically defending and then he wondered why he had bothered at all. If Dr. McKay had warned him that it was heavy in the first place he would have been prepared for its sudden weight, and it hadn't looked heavy with the way he was handing it over. McKay just glared at him a moment longer, clearly refraining from saying something before picking up a few more tools and then heading out again. He was muttering something under his breath and then they were back in the transporter and heading into sub-control room 8 in a matter of minutes and McKay headed straight for the massive slanted control panel that stretched from one end of the room to the other and, without being prompted, began explaining its purpose.

What was truly wonderful, and what surprised Strat probably more than anything that day, was that he didn't hold anything back in his explanation of his work. Not a single thing, and before he knew it he had forgotten that McKay was irritated with his presence. Hell, for a short while he forgot he was supposed to be observing him as he was ordered about. McKay snapped his fingers, demanding tools from the box he carried and telling him to stop being so useless, then he ordered him to go to the other side of the room and take note of the readings. For the first time in two years, after who knew how many investigations he had taken part in, Strat was being treated like a true scientist again. Then McKay was packing up his equipment and telling the control room that if people would just have the foresight to check the batteries before running around like chickens with their heads cut off at the slightest problem, maybe if they could learn how to think for themselves in the first place and then his time wouldn't be wasted fixing things that five year olds could figure out.

Then they were leaving the room and Strat was reminded that he was an investigator, investigating McKay, the man who had basically just accused his staff of being useless and was now making annoyed, put upon sighs as they traversed the halls of Atlantis and he explained what it was that they were going to do next. And then what they were going to do after that, and then after that. Dr. Strat just nodded, listening to everything that he was told, and didn't complain when the Canadian shoved things in his arms to carry without asking and never waited for him to catch up as he struggled under the load he had been burdened with, just expecting him to be there.

By the time 7:36AM Atlantis time rolled around they had fixed the power fluctuations, and checked on the botanists in their converted hydroponics bay where McKay assigned an environmental and regular engineer to visit later that day to fix one of the greenrooms that housed medicinal plants, much to the pleasure of the botanists. They had gone out to the southwest pier to examine some repairs that had been done the previous day before heading down to the Medical Lab and fine tuning an Ancient scanner that Dr. Beckett apparently only let Dr. McKay or Dr. Zelenka near enough to fix. Then they had sat in on a very brief early morning meeting where the heads of Atlantis quickly pointed out their plans for the day so everyone was on relatively the same page, and now they were heading towards the labs to check on some ongoing experiments.

He wanted coffee, in fact he needed it, but McKay hadn't seemed in the least bit interested in stopping by the cafeteria on their way back to the lab. Well, investigator or not, he felt he deserved it after his early start and, once they arrived at the lab and deposited the laptop and various tools they had been carrying with them, and before McKay got started with his next duty, he announced his plan to acquire some of the beverage and quickly left the room so he could get back as soon as possible.

He was gone maybe five minutes, but when he got back McKay was standing in front of a piece of Ancient technology that Strat didn't recognize at all, his greedy blue eyes examining it as he listened to the scientist, Dr. Zambri, give a run down on her progress. McKay had a silver mug of steaming coffee in one hand and a half eaten muffin in the other and he didn't even acknowledge Strat when he decided to stand to the side and listen in from a distance. How the hell did he get coffee and food, and why didn't he tell him it was there! That was just so…childish. When McKay was taking a final look at the machine in front of him Zambri looked over and winked at Strat, and then raised her own coffee mug in salute before once again paying full attention to her boss, nothing but professionalism in place as he made a few comments and then abruptly moved on to the next project without another word.

And so the next hour went and before he knew it they were once again on the move. He had never seen anyone plough through progress reports as quickly as McKay had. He'd barely let some of his people open their mouths before telling them what to fix and to call him when they actually had something important to show him, while others he listened to with rapt attention making a few pointed comments, and others he insulted with a few very succinct sentences and then completely ignored, telling them to speak with Zelenka if they felt they had something important to say and then only upon Zelenka's approval would Rodney grace them with his presence again.

By that time the coffee, being the wonderful diuretic that it was, had run its course and he now had to cut away for another quick break. He came back into the lab to find McKay glaring at the most well groomed individual on the base, as far as Strat had seen, and Dr. Sauder, who looked just as livid as McKay but at whom he was unsure of at the moment.

Zelenka stood just inside the door, blatantly watching the group and Strat slid up next to him.

"What's going on?" he asked, and Zelenka favored him with perked lips and an annoyed glance before he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the wall casually.

"Is ongoing problem with the two," he nodded at the group in front of McKay, just in case Strat couldn't figure out exactly who he was talking about. "They cannot find a working rapport and though they try, or at least one of them tries, their partnership is not working out as well as hoped."

"Okay, stop talking right now before I change my mind all together," McKay ordered sharply, staring at Dr. Keagan with a level of irritation that Strat had not seen him exhibit until now. Actually, it looked like he was trying not to strangle the man, and that wasn't a very good look for someone who was supposed to be setting an example for his people. Strat frowned at the blatant hostility and, after a moment of silent glaring and apparent decision-making, McKay looked at Dr. Sauder.

"I'm giving you full control of the Inithilus project, it's far enough along now that it doesn't need to be constantly monitored by two people," his hand snapped up and he spasmodically shook his finger in warning as Dr. Keagan, his face turning an unhealthy shade of red, made to protest. "The final report will still be presented by both of you, but as of now Dr. Keagan no longer has any authority in how it will continue to proceed. However, he will be informed of any findings and updated regularly throughout the completion of this project. If you need an extra hand in the project you can ask either Rombiro or Halliston." Upon this declaration Dr. Sauder looked relieved, her shoulder length blond hair bobbing along with her nodding head. Dr. Keagan looked anything but happy, and he apparently had no qualms about letting his feelings be known.

"This is ridiculous! I've worked my ass off on that project, Dr. McKay! You don't have the right to pull me off of it at this point!"

"Don't tell me what I do or do not have the right to do, Dr. Keagan," McKay suddenly snarled at the man and stepped into his personal space, eye to eye. Dr. Strat immediately went to move forward to put a stop to this but the sudden appearance of a strong grip on his arm had him looking over at Zelenka, who shook his head negatively and pulled him gently back along the wall to watch. Against his better judgment, he complied. McKay was not happy with the man before him and the burst of defiant anger that had sprung forth from the enraged Dr. Keagan only moments before was suddenly subdued as he swallowed thickly and took a step back only to be followed by his superior.

"I am in charge of this scientific expedition and, until the day when I do not come back from a mission or I'm cosily snuggled in a straight jacket and locked away into an un-numbered padded cell back on Earth, then when I tell you how something is going to be you will not argue with me. You are on very thin ground right now, Dr. Keagan, and don't you even presume to know how thin it is. I do not have time to deal with your whining and perpetual insistence that your quality of work should be recognized before others simply because _you_ deem it. I placed you on the Inithilus project because you and Dr. Sauder were the best scientists for the job, but it has become abundantly clear that you are incapable of playing with anyone but yourself," McKay glared and finally took a step back. Beside him Strat saw Radek smother a grin at the Canadian's choice of words.

"I really don't think that-"

"No, apparently you don't think, at all, because if you did we wouldn't be having this conversation right now. In fact, you have such a limited ability to think at times that I'm starting to wonder if I shouldn't pull you from the expedition heading to the submerged science station as well," McKay threatened, glaring imminent death at Keagan and the scientists eyes widened at the prospect of being pulled from the expedition that almost every scientist in Atlantis was practically fighting to be selected for. "However," he held up a quick hand to halt the oncoming protest, "I'm going to give you _one_ more chance to prove that you're not a complete waste of our precious stock of MRE's and I'm not going to pull you from that mission, yet. But if you step out of line one more time you will be yanked off of it so fast it'll take ten years of physiotherapy to recover from the whiplash. Do I make myself clear?" It was less of a question and more of a demand that was clear to every single person in the room as they silently watched the confrontation. At Keagan's brisk, strained nod of agreement the two scientists were released from their boss' clutches and Strat felt the breeze as Keagan fled the room.

"If you people don't have enough work to do, I can easily find something to aid your entertainment starved lives," McKay threatened and the rest of the room hustled back to their jobs. After a few more moments spent conversing quietly with Dr. Sauder, something that Strat felt he should have been able to stand in on but not wanting to blatantly march over there to eaves drop, McKay stalked over to them.

"It is such shame," Radek stated, shaking his head as McKay stopped beside him.

"It is. That man is extremely intelligent, but his common sense has yet to surpass his grooming abilities," he huffed, staring out the door where Dr. Keagan had passed minutes before.

"Yes, such a poor waste of talent," Radek agreed with Rodney before magically producing a mug of coffee and handing it to McKay, who drank half of it in one long swallow without so much as a thank you.

"He's been giving you problems, then?" Dr. Strat asked, because that had been a pretty forceful display and he really wasn't sure it was deserved. He'd never seen anyone dressed down so harshly and he wasn't sure how he should handle this. At the question McKay rolled his eyes and simply took another drink of his coffee, waving at Dr. Zelenka to pick up the tale as they moved collectively into the hall.

"Atlantis is a small outpost compared to many, and everyone here is extremely intelligent in their own ways, but for many this is first time they have not out shown their peers. There is always some friction, because of this. Dr. Keagan is one of the best engineers and Ancient diagnosticians that we have, but he has not yet found a way to work well with others."

"That's an understatement and a half," Rodney muttered darkly.

"He has slight problem listening to authority, it can be trying at times."

"If he can't follow orders or work well in group situations then his worth to us is diminished greatly. I can't have someone on a team or going on missions, when they could possibly become a liability."

"But Dr. Keagan has not yet stepped over any boundaries and we hope he will come to senses. He has great ability, but as we said, he is…"

"Worse than Kavanagh in the ego department," Rodney finished and then stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Radek in confusion. "Aren't you supposed to be supervising the outfitting of the submersible we'll be using tomorrow?"

"Yes, and things are going much better than planned. The ship is in perfect condition."

"Yes, I know that, but why are you here? You know I was on my way to meet you there."

"I thought you might lose track of time yelling at subordinates. I have much work to do and no time to wait around all day for your help," the Czech snorted and continued walking. After giving the scientist a somewhat baffled look and then shaking it off, McKay followed him down the hall again only to stop five seconds later, forcing the procession to halt once more.

"Wait wait wait…" he dug in his pocket and pulled out a flat circular object that seemed to glitter in the overhead lights and rubbed his thumb over it quickly.

"Do you need something?" A voice called from behind Strat, causing him to jump and twirl around quickly only to find a very tall man with short well kept dread locks and a strange white suite that seemed to turn orange when he moved. The man, _hologram_ he quickly corrected himself as he stared at the flawless image before him, gave him a brief glance and then dismissed him much the same way that Rodney had when they'd first met.

"No, I just thought you might like to take a walk with us and stretch your photonic legs," McKay sniped, and before Cadross could begin to formulate a response, he started traveling down the corridor again. "There's a birthday today, one of the soldiers…" he waved his hand around absently, waiting for someone to fill in the blank.

"Sergeant Stackhouse," Cadross helpfully supplied and Rodney double snapped his fingers at him. "Yes, that's him. I need you to pass on a message to him, say happy birthday for me. Wait, better yet, you could sing it to him! Yes, in the mess hall at lunch. As loud as possible, if you could." Strat stared at the Canadian in surprise. Was he serious?

"You can't be serious," Cadross verbally echoed his thoughts, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an unbelieving eyebrow.

"What? Why not?" The Canadian actually looked confused.

"I am not a singing telegram."

"No, you're a highly sophisticated holographic messaging system who decided to select me as your new director here in Atlantis. It's not my problem if you're beginning to regret your decision, and I really think you need to spend less time with Sheppard."

"It wasn't so much of a decision as an enforced way of being."

"Are you accusing me of treating you like a slave?" Raised eyebrows were the response. "Well, deal with it; it's what you were made for. Make sure you sing it when the mess hall is at its busiest point when he's there. Oh, and if he asks you where my gift is for him, remind him of R2T P3X."

"I can't believe I choose this way of life over the obliviousness of permanent deactivation."

"That could still become a reality," McKay grumbled, but his attention drifted suddenly as he began thinking about other things and they all walked in silence for a moment, until Radek reached out and gently grabbed his boss' arm to steer him back into the middle of the hall before he absently crashed into the wall he was veering towards. That seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, his glazed eyes focusing again and he looked at Cadross.

"What, are you waiting for engraved instructions?"

"It is still an hour before his lunch break is scheduled."

"Okay, fine. While you're waiting I need you to tell the equipment chief I'll need some deep dive SCUBA suits as well as some extra oxygen tanks, and those little hand oxygen tank things, get some of those to," he was waving his arms around again, always moving. "I want everything in place by tonight so I can go over it before our departure tomorrow."

"Will there be anything else? Perhaps I could give you a foot rub."

"If only your photons could solidify," McKay responded dreamily and grinned at Radek's snort. "Oh and Cadross, if you could do this in person that would be great."

"Fine," and the tiny metallic object that Rodney had been holding suddenly jumped up in his hand as six spindly little, almost invisible legs unfolded from it. The object sat in the palm of his hand a moment before crawling quickly up his arm, down his back and then onto the floor where it scurried out of sight so quickly that it was hard to believe it had been there at all.

"Cadross is more and more like you every time I see him," Radek announced and Rodney grinned proudly, as though he were the hologram's creator, and shrugged.

"He was designed to deliver messages for one person. I think his subroutines were programmed to adapt to the personality of that individual so the messages could be delivered with the proper pitch."

"Why doesn't he look like you then? If he adapts to your personality," and Strat didn't think that was such a good thing, "it would make sense to also adapt to your appearance."

"I believe there's a failsafe built into them so that it is nearly impossible to adapt the image of an existing person. They probably thought having people's doubles running around to deliver messages would cause too much confusion. Though if we wanted to I could change him to look like me, but I think he's quite attached to his current image and he'd never forgive me if I changed it. I've actually caught him checking out his reflection several times. If he wasn't a piece of technology that's image never changes, other than facial expressions, then I'd say he's as vain as Keagan. Besides, one of me in Atlantis is more than enough and I personally don't relish the idea of my doppelganger running around making impressions on my scientists when I can't monitor him. That's just asking for trouble," McKay sniped as he stalked right through the control room and out into the massive, dome shaped submersible bay. Was that a cot Strat saw lying half hidden in the corner of the small control area?

All around them people in lab coats and numerous styles of blue shirts were in various stages of movement. Some hustled back and forth, others were still and staring, others moving in slow methodical dances with the technology they were working on while others were half buried in their work and shifting about with quick, jerky movements.

He had fallen behind a few feet, watching as Dr. McKay and Dr. Zelenka easily navigated around the piles of junk that lay about, both speaking animatedly about the progress on the submersible that had been selected for the journey to the science station. Sometimes Strat couldn't help but feel as if he were still stuck in a dream, everything was so foreign and surreal it could only be a figment of his imagination. Then reality would come rushing back and he'd almost feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of ancient technology found everywhere in the city and he would force himself to focus on his job so he wasn't completely overwhelmed with the feeling.

This submersible bay alone was astounding. It was obviously located below sea level and was situated off to what had been classified as the northern side of the city, despite whether it was actually facing north at any given time. One of the first things he had learned about the city as he read about it on the Daedulus, was that it was a floating city. As such it had hundreds of massive water propulsion units built underneath it that were designed to constantly maintain its selected location on the sea. It was his understanding that McKay had shut down most of these systems almost immediately after they had arrived in Atlantis, once he had become aware of their existence. Now the propulsion units ran just enough to keep the city in its general vicinity, as McKay had stated that a few kilometers difference between it's location every few weeks really didn't mean anything as long as the sensors ensured they stay in deep water. In fact the entire city had been purposely relocated several hundred miles to the north east as a precaution in case the wraith came back. Due to this change in the systems to maintain power the city was constantly rotating on the water, it's northern point changing with the current and wind. Therefore points in the city had been delegated as north, east, south and west despite the way they faced at any given time.

Therefore this base was located on the northern side of the city, but it could be facing southeast for all he knew. It was a fascinating room though. It's large, circular base had a twenty meter ring of docks and roadway built around its entire edge which surrounded the large open hole in the middle of the space where the water was. Travelling right across this large circular entrance to the ocean were docks of various width that stretched right through to the other side creating a grid like pattern so people could travel across the open space to the vehicle of their choice, wherever it was moored.

Most of the watery docks in the center were empty and there were two massive areas on the east and south ends where Strat had heard several scientists speculate on large submersibles that may have once resided there. The docks that crossed the expansive area were littered with piles of what appeared to be spare parts, scraps from damaged submersibles, and consoles that hadn't been covered for ten thousand years and had mildewed and even rusted in areas where the salty water and damp air had breached them. Despite the strength of the technology it was obvious that without proper care it could be damaged.

However, not all of it had been and, as he followed the two lead scientists around a corner, he came upon the ship they would be using to get to the station. It was beautiful, sleek, shaped in an odd curvature that reminded him inanely of an abstracted giant manta ray back on earth. Only not so much.

"Beautiful, isn't she?" He jumped, immediately embarrassed by his reaction as he turned to see Sheppard smirk in amusement at him. Right, ha ha. He shifted nervously under the penetrating brown-green gaze of the pilot and looked pointedly back at the craft.

"Yes, I was just thinking that."

"Kind of looks like a bloated manta ray," Sheppard offered, his keen eyes focusing on McKay as the man stood inside the loading doors and examined something while speaking rapidly with Radek and another scientist.

"Yes, with less…pointy ends," he cringed, not knowing what else to say. He struggled to find something to continue the conversation, distinctly uncomfortable to be in this man's presence. He'd spoken to him several times now and he couldn't shake the feeling that, at the moment, he was on the Colonel's shit list and he had no idea how he had arrived there. Other than by doing his job that is, and after judging the brief interactions between the Colonel and Dr. McKay he suspected the shit list was more of a personal than a professional matter.

"Dr. Carter would have loved to see this," he enthused, an image of the blond women popping into his head suddenly and the instant the words left his mouth he knew that he had said the wrong thing. The Colonel's eyes narrowed and his lips tightened subtly even as his mostly friendly demeanour remained locked in place.

"I'm sure she would," was the clipped reply and Strat looked over to see the wild haired man staring intently at McKay, refusing eye contact. As if on queue McKay looked over at them, his own eyes narrowing as he apparently saw the displeasure on the Colonel's face even from fifteen feet away, which was amazing considering how controlled he was.

"Sheppard, are you going to waste the entire morning-"

"Its lunch time, McKay," Sheppard cut in quickly and McKay made a quick correction.

"The entire afternoon socializing or can we actually try to get some work done today, hmmm?" Suddenly the tension in the soldier's body relaxed, and Strat breathed an internal sigh of relief even though the man's displeasure with him hadn't been overly apparent. Sheppard shrugged casually, not moving an inch from where he stood, gazing into the belly of the beast so to speak.

"I don't know, McKay, with such a pleasant invitation to become your personal slave for the afternoon, I'm wondering if my time might be better spent beating Ronan to a pulp in the gym." McKay snorted, turning back to something on the access hatch.

"Whatever you want to do, Colonel, but perhaps you could make up your mind soon. My scientists need the oxygen you're wasting." Sheppard moved towards the hanger and Strat quickly followed, getting his first look into the wide, rather spacious interior considering how small it looked from the outside. There were four people moving about with various tools that blinked and glowed in the pale lighting and as soon as Sheppard stepped into the vehicle the light brightened and everyone stopped what they were doing and glared at him.

"Figures," McKay muttered from his place and Sheppard grinned smugly.

"I can't help it if she loves me."

"She doesn't love you, you just turn her on. Lust and love are two completely different things," McKay groused, but he didn't really seem upset, it was more like he was merely complaining for the sake of it.

"Whatever you say, McKay," Sheppard actually bounced on his feet as he looked about the interior, ignoring the adoring look one scientist threw his way.

"I do say, and," he snapped the panel covering back into place, "I think we're done here," he grinned and looked up. "Okay," he called for everyone's attention, "it looks like all the systems are fully operational. Good job everyone, now get out of here and grab some food. We'll take this puppy out as soon as the dive teams have cleared the force field of debris." The rolling of eyes was instantaneous but the science team quickly packed up their tools, and shuffled off the ship. Strat caught a few pleased grins that were quickly covered up as they passed McKay, who was moving to the main interior.

"That means you two as well," Sheppard followed both McKay and Zelenka fully into the vehicle.

"We will, after we finish the final check. It shouldn't take more than an hour and it'll be another two before Henderson's team pulls all the crap up from underneath the station and we can deactivate the force field without fear of losing anything important," he waved his hand and, after a moment Sheppard moved to sit in the captain's chair without another word, examining it carefully. The force field in question encompassed the entire bay thirty feet underneath the surface. The general consensus was that the security feature was there to keep the creatures of the deep out of the city, prevent things that fell off the dock from sinking straight to the ocean floor and to prevent unauthorized arrivals and departures in the city. Henderson's team had been working for the past two days to pull everything that had fallen off the docks and into the water during the rising and the wraith attack, back to the surface. It was slow work, but once it was completed they would have a clear path straight into the depths of the ocean. Strat wasn't sure if he was going to accompany the first voyage yet, but he would make up his mind when the time came.

It was almost an hour later when the silence that had descended in the submersible as everyone worked intently (who knew McKay could stay still for so long) was broken by a loud and demanding yell.

"McKay!" The man in question jerked suddenly nervous eyes up to glance hurriedly between Sheppard and Zelenka.

"Oh god, the she demon! Quick, hide me!"

"Where, under the front seat?" Zelenka asked, and Sheppard grinned as he made to check how much room was beneath him.

"Traitors!" McKay hissed and Strat was wondering what the hell was going on when a woman, dressed in military garb and a head full of blond hair stalked right in through the ship and her eyes narrowed at the lead scientist, who actually looked a bit afraid, edgy, and lacking his normal confidence.

"There you are!" She exclaimed, staring at him as he visibly straightened, collecting himself to his full height.

"Cadman," he exclaimed, only half feigning surprise and Strat recognized her from a report he'd read on McKay before arriving. "Is there something you wanted?" He bit out, trying to sound courteous but coming across more pained than anything.

"Yes, there is," she declared and then stormed right into his personal space and threw her arms around him in a large, apparently crushing hug. McKay gasped for breath under the quick assault before he was released and she stood back, the grin on her face and sparkle in her eyes completely transforming her.

"Ummm…w-what?" the self proclaimed genius stuttered and hastily backed away from her, putting Radek between them and holding the Czech's shoulders in a grip that would not allow him to move. The shorter man rolled his eyes behind his glasses. And then Cadross stepped into the submersible and simply looked around with a raised eyebrow.

"Thank you," Cadman practically gushed and then noticed her superior officer watching from the front with an amused glance. "Sir," she acknowledged him but didn't fall to attention and Strat decided she was probably off duty as she turned her attention back to the baffled scientist, still cowering behind Zelenka.

"For what?" He asked, perplexed and Strat was confused as well. Never before had he witnessed such a scene and the longer he stayed in Atlantis the more he discovered how different this place was from other bases, both civilian and military alike.

"For Cadross' message, of course," she rolled her eyes and McKay suddenly relaxed as he looked over at his personal assistant.

"So it went well? Was the mess hall packed? What was his face like?!" He was suddenly excited, like a child as he waited enthusiastically to learn how his present (which Strat had originally thought had been meant as a joke but was now not so sure) had been received.

"Shocked the hell out of him, out of all of us actually. One minute we're sitting there talking and the next thing I know Pavarotti himself is serenading Stackhouse with the loudest rendition of Happy Birthday I have ever heard." She was chuckling in remembrance now.

"Pavarotti?" McKay looked at Cadross who shrugged indignantly.

"You didn't specify which style to use while delivering my message, and from the volume you wanted it delivered at I decided that opera was the best method of delivery." He defended himself before Cadman cut back in.

"No, it was perfect. I haven't seen Stackhouse laugh like that for months, once he got over the shock of course."

"I was afraid he was going to fall out of his chair," Cadross informed them, a pleased smirk on his photonic lips. How somebody who wasn't actually a person could be so real was amazing, and by now Rodney was grinning like he was the one who had received a gift.

"Really? Good, that's good," he hummed to himself, stepping out from behind his human shield.

"You old softie, I knew you had a sappy interior underneath that hard shell," Sheppard teased and McKay instantly hid his pleasure and rolled his eyes.

"You wish, as it turns out my plan backfired. I was hoping he'd be embarrassed, it turns out I didn't try hard enough," he snarked and turned to move back to his work when Cadman lunged forward and tried to squeeze the life out of him again. This time he squirmed under the grip before gently shoving her away and shuddered.

"Stop that, or I'll have Sheppard arrest you for assault. Honestly, if I wanted to be molested I'd go find Dr. Heart," he visibly shuddered at the thought and Cadman backed off, but her smile was still firmly in place, though it had softened.

"Seriously, Rodney, I think that was the best gift he could have received. Thank you."

"There's nothing to thank me for," he replied gruffly, but his eyes softened a bit around the edges as he concentrated on his work again. She nodded and looked around the room, waving goodbye before disappearing out the back door.

When they went to lunch, twenty minutes later, McKay was slapped on the back so many times by the marines that he began to complain that his shoulder would be dislocated before he'd even finished his sandwich, but for the first time since Strat had met him he looked truly at ease.

* * * * * * * * * *


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

* * * * * * * * * *

**China, 2000**

Sixteen hours ago he had been involved in a rescue operation. It wasn't his first by a long shot, but after spending two hours in the place where the victim had been held for several days he could honestly say he was more disturbed than usual, despite the condition of some of the people he'd rescued in the past.

Twelve hours ago he had walked into a bar with several of his fellow marines and made a few toasts to life, liberty, and the sorry son-of-a-bitch they'd rescued, who was hopefully laid up in some hospital, recovering. Then he sang Karaoke for the first and last time in his life.

Nine hours ago he had crawled across the bed he had been given at his temporary posting and, after overcoming a nasty bout of bed spins, fell into a deep, numb sleep.

Four hours ago the ringing of an abnormally high-pitched phone forced him to become aware of the worst hangover he'd had in four years. Then he had stumbled into his shower, into his last clean uniform, and down to the base's head office where he had been ordered to meet with General DeBoer. He had arrived early, as he hated being late, and stood stiffly in the hallway for fifteen minutes as he waited for the General to call him into his office.

He hadn't understood why he was there, but he had expected it to be another debriefing about the rescue mission, despite the fact that there was nothing else he could say about it. He was very meticulous with his facts, he had been since he was a child, and he hadn't left anything out of his verbal or written reports. Nevertheless, it wasn't unusual to be asked, time and again, to retell the facts when a situation was more sensitive than usual. He didn't know who it was that he had helped to rescue, but he assumed he was a very important individual judging by the speed and strength of the operation.

He had been prepared to retell his story. Instead he had found himself on the receiving end of a rapid interrogation detailing his history as a marine, his previous education in both law and criminal investigation, his loyalties and his basic belief system of religion, politics and the universe at large. Then General DeBoer had stared at him as though assessing his worthiness for the throne before wordlessly handing him a white folder with a bold red stamp across the front which read 'CONFIDENTIAL.'

"Sir?" He'd asked, not moving to open the folder despite the curiosity that had his fingertips caressing the thin outer edges.

"You're being temporarily reassigned, Lieutenant Thompkins. Due to your performance late yesterday evening and your exemplary record, you were deemed the best qualified soldier available for this duty." It sounded like he wasn't being given a choice in the matter.

"What duty is that, sir?" He still refused to open the folder, just in case.

"You're going to be escorting the scientist you helped liberate yesterday back to his posting," DeBoer glared at him as though he expected him to automatically refuse. Instead nodded sharply, accepting the orders officially. He didn't think he really had a choice in the matter, but he would have accepted the mission regardless. The General stood from behind his desk and looked pointedly at the folder in his hands.

"That file is an abbreviated history of your charge and orders. It tells you what you need to know and no more. Under no circumstances are you to divulge a single piece of information from that file to anyone who does not have direct authority. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then I suggest you catch up on your reading, because your duty will begin shortly." Opening the file he was confronted with an almost unfamiliar face staring back at him, and he did not look happy to be having his picture taken. He recognized the blue eyes immediately. The name under the picture read 'Dr. Rodney McKay.'

One hour ago he had entered the hospital that Dr. McKay had been sent to (unofficially) and now he found himself standing outside the door to the man's private room. Across from him two soldiers stood guard, one each from the Chinese and American military. He watched them watch him, their eyes alert for any suspicious activities in the relatively busy hospital wing.

So far nobody seemed to care about the military presence outside the door, as though this were a normal occurrence. Perhaps it was.

Fifteen minutes ago Senator Kinsey, Dr. Greenwall and Dr. Alumni had appeared just as he had been about to go in and reintroduce himself to the doctor. He had held off the intrusion because the Doctor had been sleeping when he arrived and, honestly, he could use all the rest he could get. From the brief glimpse Jerry had taken when he arrived, the man still looked like death warmed over.

Kinsey, Greenwall and Alumni, the psychiatrist assigned to assess McKay, had no such compunction, however, as they all but barrelled into the room. He doubted they would have even stopped to show him their ID had he not stood right in the door, one hand visibly on his weapon, and the two other guards shifting to make their positions more obvious. To his credit, Dr. Alumni looked a little chagrined as he handed over his identification. Dr. Greenwall, however, was a little less patient as he stood and stared at him, waiting for Jerry to jump aside and let them in.

"Are you satisfied yet, soldier?" Kinsey asked.

"Yes sir, but you should be aware that Dr. McKay is currently resting."

"Yes well, he's been resting since they brought him in here. He can wake up for us," Kinsey answered, and he could do nothing but step aside. He had refused to close the door however, leaving it slightly ajar so he could hear and, if he chose to look, see inside clearly. He tried not to listen too closely, respecting their privacy, but after a few minutes the volume increased to a level that he couldn't purposely ignore. Then anger seemed to enter into the equation.

"You son-of-a-bitch!" He could only assume the weak, throaty insult came from McKay.

"It's a simple question, Doctor."

"No, it's an accusation."

"No one is accusing you, we simply need to know what information has been compromised," Kinsey needled.

"You, what kind of a shrink are you? You're honestly allowing them to ask a man in my state such a question?" McKay coughed, his voice sounding rougher and rougher as he insulted him. "Did you get your doctorate from a cracker jack box?"

"I know it's not the greatest time for this conversation, but time isn't something we have in abundance, as you know. This is a matter of national security. Could you tell me why you don't want to answer their questions?" Dr. Alumni's voice was too soft, too placating. It irritated Thompkins.

"I'm not answering their question, because I shouldn't have to," McKay snapped back, or at least tried to, but it sounded like he was losing energy. There was a stretched moment of silence, and then somebody sighed in frustration. Jerry assumed it wasn't McKay.

"Dr. McKay…"

"I can't believe that you are actually asking me this. I'm in a hospital bed with a cocktail of hallucinogens and inhibition-loosening drugs still swimming through my bloodstream. I can't see out of one eye, my limbs are not functioning properly, my glucose level is all over the place, I have needles that have made a home in my arm, and I'm not going to be able to walk properly for at least a week and you have the audacity to ask me that question!" There was a moment of charged silence, and then Greenwall answered with a clipped 'yes.' Jerry found himself resisting the urge to enter the room and put a stop to this right now. Shouldn't a nurse be responding to the increased heart rate or something? He looked up and down the hall to see that nobody seemed to notice.

"What information did you give them, Doctor?" Kinsey demanded.

"Nothing!" McKay yelled.

"Honestly, Doctor…"

"No. No, I did not tell them anything. No, I did not give them anything. No, I did not write anything down for them. No, I did not relay any messages with sign language. I. Did. Not. Give. Them. A Damn Thing! Put that in your precious report and tell those assholes back home to shove it up their collective asses. If they didn't trust me with this level of information then they should have never allowed me to join the project. Now get out."

"Doctor…"

"Now. Get out right now. I answered your questions, so just get out," There was no room for argument with that demand. There were a few muttered 'get wells' and then the three men walked past Thompkins without a backward glance.

"Well, Greenwall, do you think he's telling the truth?"

"It's possible, of course. But I think that we may want to reassign him to other tasks for a while."

"He's really not in any state to be answering these questions…" Dr. Alumni added, and they were gone. Jerry made sure the two guards were still alert before slipping quietly into the room. McKay was propped up on his bed, his eyes closed, a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. He breathed quickly a few times and then slowly pulled the air in between his lips and exhaled. His hands, one balled into a weak fist on his stomach and the other half hiding his face, were shaking with tiny tremors. He looked like shit.

Was this a man who could truly withstand torture without giving an inch? He wasn't sure.

"You should get some sleep," Thompkins suggested quietly, hoping not to startle him too badly. McKay looked up and tried to glare out of his good eye, but it fell flat and he just nodded weakly.

"You're my new guard then?" He pushed a button and his bed reclined a little more.

"Yes, sir. I'm Lieutenant Thompkins."

"Yes, good for you," he waved him off, his mind obviously elsewhere. "I have a bit of an issue with people who are supposed to protect me right now, so I think it's only fair that I tell you up front."

"I understand, sir." McKay looked at him then, and frowned, then winced as it pulled at his damaged face.

"You helped get me out?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ohh, okay." He was beginning to fade fast; his hands began shaking more as his adrenalin rush wore off. "Thank you." He whispered, and then swallowed thickly, turning to look at the wall beside him a moment. He took a shaky breath and Jerry, not knowing what else to do, pulled the chair away from the wall and set it a few feet from the bed.

"You're safe here now. I won't let them get you again, you have my word." McKay gave a tight nod, indicating that he had heard. Time passed slowly, the silence in the now dimmed room broken by the occasional snuffle, cough, or shaky breathing coming from McKay, so it was a surprise when the oppressive silence was broken by a voice so quiet he almost didn't hear it.

"I didn't give them anything," he whispered, and then shivered violently. "Not one damn thing."

"I know," Thompkins replied, and in that instant he believed it. He wasn't sure why, but deep down he just knew that the doctor was telling the truth despite what the brass had thought. This man hadn't given in.

It wasn't long after that hushed confession that his breathing evened into sleep and Jerry was left alone with his thoughts.

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

The first test dive of their latest submersible toy had been a complete success; in fact, it had been just as much of a success as the first puddle jumper flights. Mint condition was what Sheppard had happily declared as the ship glided gracefully below the water's surface following its smooth departure from the docks, and Radek had agreed as he stood reading the console to the pilot's left. On the Colonel's right, Rodney had sat stiffly in the co-pilots chair, his gaze shifting constantly to look out of the window before them, staring into the blue depths repeatedly. Above them, floating ten feet below the water's surface had been two Jumpers rigged with the adapted shields and one more rigged with the grappling hook that Sheppard had developed the month before.

They had gone into the controlled test with every possible precaution and when Radek had requested to join Rodney and John on the initial test dive, he had done so with the beat of his too fast heart hammering in his ears. But the smile he received from Rodney, that small almost unnoticeable quirk of his lips and the satisfied glimmer in his sometimes overly emotional eyes… it had made Radek proud. Proud. He was proud of himself for taking the steps, finding the guts, so they say. But he stood taller, squared his shoulders and thrust his chin out in a way that he wasn't familiar with when his boss, his very great friend and, sometimes (when he was not being overly arrogant) the one person he looked up to beyond anyone else, had been proud of him.

When the submersible's door had closed behind him and they began their descent it was, for Radek, one of his proudest achievements.

"We'll make an adventurer out of you yet," Sheppard had hummed, slapping him on the back after his request had been made and McKay had simply grunted and told him in clipped, non-delicate words not to screw up and get them all killed. But the pride had been there, and they both knew Radek had seen it.

It was funny how a man who was so pompous, arrogant, loud, whiney, aggravating, and insulting to the point that he considered it a good day if he made his staff cry, had turned into someone he looked up to. But Radek did look up to him and the better he came to know the Canadian the more he admired him.

The trip in the submersible had just proven to Radek that such belief was not unjustly placed, even while both he and Sheppard had watched their too quiet friend like a hawk.

The trip had been a big step for Radek, but it had been no small thing for the sometimes-truculent Canadian either. Not by a long shot, though Rodney had tried to keep this fact hidden from those around him. It was not easy, but Radek suspected that Rodney had managed to convince almost everyone in the hangar bay and control room that this was nothing more than another adventure for him. Radek, along with Sheppard, had known better. In fact so had Carson, Teyla, and even the silent and ominous Ronon as they had appeared before the sailing under the guise of seeing them all off. Radek was no fool; he had seen the way Teyla's hand had lingered on Rodney's arm a moment longer than necessary. Ronon had simply stared at Rodney the entire time, the linear concentration portraying more than a simple 'good luck' ever could. Carson had fretted in his own way, under the guise of one last 'quick' check up before they headed off, his hand squeezing Rodney's shoulder in comfort.

Watching Rodney carefully, hoping he didn't look as obvious with his concern as he felt, Radek saw the flicker of appreciation in the man's blue eyes before it was quickly quashed under false irritation and an urge to get the show on the road. If any of the small band of friends had noticed the way McKay hesitated very briefly on the threshold of the ship, however, they didn't say anything. Rodney, steeling his courage in a way that was becoming much too familiar, had made no other sign of discomfort, until they were inside the submersible and sliding into the deep water. That was when he began glancing up every minute to stare out the front of the water ship, as if he was making sure they were safe, that the glass wasn't cracking under the pressure.

The nervous sweat that had beaded along his friend's hair line had been utterly ignored on the trip, as had the occasional sharp intake of breath and the way he would look around to remind himself that it was not such a small space, that it wasn't closing in to crush him.

Rodney had mentioned once before, shortly after they had arrived in Atlantis, that he was slightly claustrophobic. He hadn't mentioned it since then, at least not to Radek's knowledge, but the rumour had somehow spread and most people were aware of the complaint. Most people had taken it as one of the scientist's bids for attention, but Radek knew better. He had been looking for Rodney one night in Antarctica only to find him wedged beneath the floor slats where the _chair_ was located, examining the magnificent technology's hidden treasures. He had been muttering to himself and when Radek had quietly approached he deciphered the hastily spoken words as 'you're in a field, a nice wide open field…' He had never once teased the man about his issue with such small spaces, even though McKay had complained about everything and regularly berated the science staff. At the time, he had decided that anyone who was that afraid of tight spaces, and yet willingly placed himself in a position where he was forced to deal with his fears simply for the sake of curiosity…well, a person like that could do great things.

He hadn't been proven wrong, and as they sat in the submersible and he watched his friend make sure everything was in proper working order, Radek was reminded once again why he had decided to give Rodney the benefit of the doubt all those years ago. Rodney's fear of small places, of being trapped, had come back with a vengeance following the incident with the puddle jumper and Griffin's death. It was apparent when he did simple things such as stepping into a storage closet for a tool, or heading into the small washroom in the corner of the lab. Small hesitations that most never noticed, but Radek noticed, and so had his other friends despite the fact that he had yet to confide in any of them about the near death incident. It was both painful and inspiring to watch.

Nonetheless, the test had been successful, and after Sheppard had managed to distract Rodney with some well-placed insults and rather amusing jokes, forcing the man to focus his attention between conversation and work, it had become easier. And they had docked and stepped out of the ship and into the submersible bay to smiling scientists and military people all around. Of course, only the ones who were on duty were present, but still the feeling of success was elating.

Then Dr. Strat came up and joined them, a smile of his own in place and Radek cursed inwardly at the subtle stiffening of his friend's posture as he took up residence near Rodney. He noticed it in Sheppard as well. Radek wondered if the man even realized how many questions he asked or how much he involved himself in their work. Dr. Strat had arranged to shadow Rodney for a day, and while Radek had been with him for much of the day, he could not find enough ways to get the investigator to leave his boss alone. He supposed it was inevitable, the man had to watch Rodney work at some point, but it was almost painful to watch as he trudged around, inquisitive to the point of distraction.

McKay had adamantly refused to allow Dr. Strat onto the submersible for the dive test, declaring that only the minimum number of necessary personnel would be going. Radek knew this was for safety reasons, but even so, he had welcomed the respite.

He had heard some of the things Dr. Strat asked Rodney. What were his reasons for handling things a certain way? Why this method instead of that method? How did he assign tasks and which tasks were given priority? While irritating those questions were not really the problem, and Radek had actually learned something of how his friend's mind worked as Rodney patiently, or not-so-patiently, answered each of the investigator's questions. No, the real problem lay in the little, offhand comments he made based on one Dr. Colonel Samantha Carter and how she might have handled some of those situations differently. McKay took it in stride, but the statements – whether intentional or not – seemed to question his own competence and intelligence. Radek wanted to hit Strat, but he thought the Colonel might beat him to it, and Sheppard had only been around for one or two comments so far.

It would be interesting to see who snapped first, Radek, Rodney or Sheppard. He just hoped they could pass the death off as an unintentional slip of the hand…that just happened to strangle the visiting Doctor. It would all be very unfortunate, perhaps tears would come into play, though he suspected there would be more from joy at the silence than anything else.

With the successful test behind them now, they were eating a nice meal in the mess hall before finishing the last preparations for the trip the following day. Once that was done, they might hopefully retire to nice comfortable beds for a solid night's sleep. Fortunately, Strat had finally been too tired to follow Rodney around any longer and decided that he'd seen enough for the day. Ha, it was only half-past eight in the evening. Early yet.

"No," Rodney waved an empty fork at Sheppard firmly before scooping up more of the mashed mystery vegetable that crammed onto one corner of his plate.

"What do you mean no?"

"What I mean, Colonel, is nooooo. Say it with me now, you can do it: no."

"Why not?"

"Because I am not going to stand in the presence of other people and call it that. I feel dumber even thinking about it," and Rodney mock shuddered in response. This argument had been going on since half way through the ships test where Sheppard had suggested one name after another for the submersible; each one more ludicrous than the last, and Rodney had firmly rebutted each and every one. Even the "McKay Mobile," which Radek thought he would have at least considered, hadn't made the cut.

"I would have to agree that that could lead to…an uncomfortable situation," Teyla supplied and Rodney crowed in triumph while Sheppard feigned hurt.

"It's not that bad of a name," he defended.

"It's not good, either," Rodney bit back. Ronon shoved his seat back and wordlessly stood, heading back to the food counter for his second helping.

"Does it not already have a title? From what I've seen of most ancient ships they usually come with a title or at the least a classification," the attractive Athosian remarked, looking between the Canadian and American with…well, Radek supposed it was amusement, but she looked a little pained.

"It is called the Rooseleanheller, after the ancient who designed it," Radek smirked at her frown at the long name.

"That's why we need our own name," Rodney grumbled.

"Well, I don't see you throwing out any suggestions," Sheppard reached over and stole McKay's last piece of bread but received only a glare in return. Rodney always took an extra piece of bread with his dinner, but as he never actually complained when Sheppard stole it, Radek suspected he actually selected it for the Colonel, just like the Colonel would try to get two desserts so he could pawn one off on Rodney. Such strange friends…Ronon reappeared with his second heaving helping of food and retook his seat with the same silence he had left it.

"I don't need to suggest anything, I've already named it," Rodney replied smugly, sitting back and crossing his arms as he watched Sheppard's reaction.

"What? You have?"

"I have, and before you could decide against it, I logged it in our official records so it can't be changed."

"But that's…you …sneaky bastard," he spluttered, indignant, but the way his lips curled up at the corner, before he forcefully controlled himself, told Radek he was amused by the maneuver. Sheppard leaned back in his own chair and crossed his arms, imitating Rodney, and quirked that ridiculous eyebrow. "Don't keep us in suspense here," he all but ordered.

"Manta."

"Manta?"

"It's a lot easier than saying 'puddle jumper' every time," McKay responded defensively.

"No, actually, I like it," Sheppard replied, not quite able to hide his surprise.

"I am capable of naming things," McKay huffed.

"I know you are. I just think its funny, because I was actually thinking along the same lines. Though I was also thinking of calling it Sting."

"Thank god I beat you to it then," but Rodney was grinning that crooked smile, the one that said he was pleased despite the barbs.

"What is Manta?" Teyla asked.

"Earth creature, lives in tropical waters. The ship is shaped like it, sort of," Ronon supplied between a bite of meat and something Radek had avoided. They all stared at the Satedan in shock, except Rodney who just continued on as though the large man knowing anything about an obscure earth animal was completely normal.

"A very general description but detailed enough, I suppose, are you going to eat that?" He was already reaching for Sheppard's second bowl of butterscotch pudding, whether the man said yes or no.

He watched as Rodney's spoon dove into the bowl. "Not anymore."

"Good. I have work to do, I'll see you later," and just like that the scientist left the table while still eating the Colonel's dessert. By the time he reached the dish depository the bowl was empty and dumped randomly on the counter instead of in its bin, and the man walked out, his mind already on other things.

"I will keep an eye on him," Teyla rose swiftly, taking both McKay's and her empty trays as she left to follow their friend to wherever he was going. Radek looked back at Sheppard, who, after watching his teammates leave looked back at Ronon.

"How the hell did you know that?"

The Satedan just smiled.

* * * * * * * * * *

McKay barely registered the taste of the butterscotch pudding as he dropped the dish on the nearest counter and left the cafeteria. He had a lot of work to do before he headed out on the mission the next day, projects that he needed to ensure would be taken care of in his short absence and in possible lieu of a longer absence. At this rate he'd be in the lab until midnight, but as he had nothing else planned for the evening that wasn't an issue.

If he had decided to play it smart he would have been back in his lab right after he had returned from the Manta's test run, but for once he had decided to let science take the back seat and he had gone to his quarters for a quick, refreshing shower and a few minutes peace, and he had felt much better for it. That, and sitting on his living room floor with Max and Ernie crawling all over him had helped immensely. He still hadn't discovered how the people of Atlantis had smuggled the small felines onto Atlantis, but they had. To Rodney's dismay he found himself glad that they had, and that just annoyed him because now he was occasionally struck with the urge to do something nice for people. Nice? Him? Ha!

So, after having his cats crawl all over him in worship (it was worship, they weren't just using him as a convenient toy to climb) he had felt better prepared to deal with the world. Sheppard had blocked the path to his labs however, that is Sheppard had blocked the path out of his room and then all but dragged him to the cafeteria. He had almost managed to argue his way out of it, feeling a bit embarrassed to be around his team mates after so blatantly making an ass of himself on the test run, but Sheppard would have none of it. Then Ronon, that towering mountain of muscle and hair, just appeared on his other side and he'd had no choice but to submit. Where the hell had the Satedan come from, anyway? Was Ronon stalking him or something?

Anyway, he couldn't say no to a meal with his friends, after they had gone out of their way to make sure he was okay both before and after the Manta's first dive. So he had grudgingly picked up his argument about the ship's name with Sheppard, which had paused when he had left for his room. He had taken his time to eat his meal as Zelenka and Teyla joined them, and he had actually relaxed a bit. That was until he saw Dr. Strat sitting at another table with several of McKay's staff at the opposite end of the room. Then all thoughts of spending a moment longer in that room evaporated and, after quickly stealing Sheppard's only pudding, he fled.

It wasn't as though he was trying to make a good impression with the investigator, if he had been he wouldn't have insulted him that one…three or four times throughout the day. He really did have work to do, a lot of it, and if his work tended to help him ignore the fact that the higher ups back in the Milky Way were untrusting of his efforts, or that he might possibly (even though it was highly unlikely) be removed from his station as Atlantis's Chief Scientist for the second time in under a year, or that he hadn't been able to sleep properly for the last month, or that even stepping into Atlantis's small, enclosed transporters made him edgy for the first time since arriving in the city. Well, then he was going to work, damn it! And if Dr. Strat, competent scientist that he was, felt that Rodney was trying to make a good impression then he could jump into a culling beam for all he cared.

By the time Rodney reached his labs, he had worked up to a fast, angered pace and he scowled as soon as he stepped into the larger room, daring anyone to say something about his attitude. Then he frowned as he realized that if anyone stationed in this particular lab was actually working at the moment they would be at The Docks. Well, fine then. He slid onto the stool that sat in front of his computer and rapidly began answering pertinent emails while deleting the rest. Idiots. He was so focused on his work that he didn't notice Teyla quietly walk into the lab and take up residence at Radek's desk, only a few feet in front of him. In fact, it took a few minutes for his focused attention to drift away from the screen and even then it was to gaze at the coffee maker across the room to see if there was anything in it.

Instead of the precious java machine, his gaze fell upon his beautiful teammate as she smiled serenely back at him. For half a minute he just stared in surprise, and when she actually squirmed under the intensity of his gaze, he shook off his shock and narrowed his eyes.

"Teyla…you're here." He wasn't a genius for nothing.

"Yes, I am."

"Okay then, I don't know why I was so surprised," he went back to work, answering a few more emails while they sat in a comfortable silence. Then he wrote a message for the entire science staff warning them to monitor their experiments carefully, because if he came back from this mission to learn that someone's incompetence had damaged anything other than themselves, nothing would save their over-educated, under-applied asses from his wrath. And that they should make sure to take all their breaks and eat properly, because food was important, as was being able to function longer and do more work.

"Is there something you needed Teyla, not that this isn't a nice surprise and all, but I'm a very busy person."

"There is nothing I need, I am simply sitting with my friend," Rodney looked halfway around the empty lab before coming to the conclusion that she was referring to him and frowned.

"We just spent dinner together."

"If you don't wish for me to be here-"

"No, no, no it's fine," he hastily cut in, not wanting to hurt her feelings in any way. "I just haven't become used to your visits yet. I still have flashbacks to that first time when you chased me around all morning because you thought Greenwall was trying to kill me," he snorted at the memory and, since he was looking at his computer screen, failed to see her shift uneasily in her seat.

It was rare, but occasionally, usually later in the evening when she was having difficulty sleeping, Teyla would join him in his lab and just sit silently, watching him work. At first he hadn't understood why she did that, and it had made him uncomfortable because he really had thought she was standing guard over him. The third time it happened, a month after Greenwall had been vanquished from Rodney's domain, he began to understand. Sometimes it was just better not to be alone. After that he had just let her do what she wanted without comment. After all, he was a little awed that she had chosen to spend her sleepless hours in his lab in silence, rather than finding other company.

Tonight however, he got the feeling that her silent visit was less to do with her and more to do with him and, perhaps, his actions earlier in the day. He didn't know how he felt about that, but all the same he was disgruntled to realize that her silent comfort meant a lot to him. Perhaps he hadn't really wanted to be alone as he checked up on his reports, issued orders to his minions and made sure everything in his city was running smoothly. He was just thankful that she didn't try to get him to talk about it, or about anything.

It was around ten-thirty when Dr. Keagan poked his head into the lab and then, to Rodney's great amusement, took one look at Teyla and disappeared, saying he would speak with Rodney in the morning. He looked back at the female warrior and, noting the frown on her face, shook his head in exasperation.

"I swear, if I needed more than four hours of sleep a night, I'd be a wreck by now with the all night interruptions."

"It is only ten-thirty."

"And I wouldn't be surprised if he comes back here three more times before midnight. There's always somebody who has a question and, apparently, I'm the only one capable of answering them at two in the morning." He may have been exaggerating a bit there, because he was usually only interrupted at two in the morning once a week and it was generally by the scientists who worked better at night than during the day and they had legitimate questions.

However, that didn't always hold true, and he had come to learn that when he was scheduled for an away mission certain members of his staff seemed to become edgy and felt the urge to double check their duties, experiments, expectations and damn movie selections with him before he stepped through the gate. Honestly, his people were very intelligent, but some of them just lacked normal social skills.

Dr. Keagan came back one more time, this time he stuck around while Teyla sat and watched their conversation silently and, when everything had been sorted out it was almost midnight.

"I will see you in the morning, Rodney," she suddenly announced, breaking the easy silence and left without another word. He watched her leave, noting how she made even walking seem like a graceful dance and wishing he could walk without his footsteps making sound.

By the time one o'clock rolled around, he was satisfied with his work and headed first to the control room to check on the systems and then to the docks. As he expected there was still a handful of people working away at their stations, some bleary eyed from working too many hours, which he ordered to go home, and others bright eyed and full of energy as they were either suffering from a caffeine overdose or had just come to work after sleeping the afternoon away. He left them alone.

He passed them all as he headed to the Manta under the guise of checking it one last time before the mission tomorrow, even though it had been fully cleared hours before. He stood and stared at the sleek, almost black craft, but instead of seeing the beauty before him, his eyes fell on the open hatch and into the darkened interior. It was easy to see the light of the docks through the ships front window, which illuminated some of the equipment that had been stored to the sides. Its size was deceiving, at least from the outside. It looked like it would barely hold five people and their equipment. However, it had been built to comfortably transport ten people and their luggage, plus some. It had been a shuttle ship, meant for carrying the Ancients to both the island the Athosian's now inhabited, and the submerged station Rodney himself would be stepping on approximately ten hours from now.

Despite its size and all of its air, it had still felt suffocatingly small when he had been in there earlier. But that had only been a part of the problem, because if he was honest with himself he would point out that even after the China incident he had been able to force himself to overcome his phobia. His position didn't allow him the comfort of babying his fear. He had to crawl into awkward, tight places all the time with the things he studied and he had refused to let his torturers take that from him as well. It had been hard, it still was hard, but that wasn't his only fear anymore.

Oh no, god forbid Rodney only have a few phobia's and near death experiences to screw him up. No, no, no, now, every time he had looked out of that window and into the ocean he remembered hearing the cracking glass, and the frantic actions of one man as he sacrificed everything just to save the life of a person who had been trying to ignore him their entire trip. 'Good luck Rodney.' Rodney hadn't needed luck, he made his own damned luck, but Griffin…Griffin had given him the chance to make his luck, and in the end lost his own.

Now, when the conga line of the dead woke Rodney in the silence of the night, Griffin was in the lead, juggling tomatoes and smiling with blank eyes. He was always smiling and it was the happy grin on his face, the inquisitive twitch of the man's moustache that had Rodney screaming silently in his bed as his eyes adjusted to the reality of his room. Stepping into Manta and looking out the front window just brought back the man's face, his voice, his final words and Rodney wanted nothing more than to forget he had ever existed, forget the ultimate sacrifice that he had made when Rodney knew he couldn't have done that himself. And then he was ashamed.

Turning away from the ship and quickly heading back to his room, he hoped that the hour and a half it would take to get to the science station would pass in a blur. Speaking of blurs…

The tail of Ronon's jacket, an abomination of style that Rodney would recognize anywhere, disappeared around the corner ahead of him, but when he rounded the bend himself there was no one in the corridor. He frowned, because he knew he had seen the man and he knew it wasn't normal for him to be in this section of the city. Unless he was checking on something…or someone. First Radek makes a random trip to meet him in the labs when he had been heading to him anyway, then Teyla drops in for the night and now Ronon's playing 'haunt Atlantis.' If Rodney didn't know any better he would suspect that they were up to something.

As he entered his room he decided that he would ask them about it tomorrow, just in case they were acting weird on purpose. But, as it turned out with all the excitement of the mission, he forgot to bring it up, and then forgot about it all together.

* * * * * * * * * *

Elizabeth stood out of the way, leaning lightly against a tall stack of metallic bins that had been on the docks when they had first been discovered. She wasn't hiding, far from it in fact, but she hated getting in the way of people who were trying to perform their duties. The last thing she ever wanted to be was a leader who hindered her people's work. Besides, standing back like this allowed her the chance to watch her people, something that she felt was a very important aspect of her work.

She nodded as two marines and one of McKay's people walked by, smiling as the scientist, so intent on her work, didn't even see her. She carefully looked around the docks, taking care to not appear as though she was studying her people and more like she was simply taking in the sites. It wasn't out of place for her to be here, especially as she had been coming down to examine all the wonderful things herself on several occasions. One of the perks of being in charge was that she could have as many guided tours as she liked. However today she was here because her lead team, which included two fourths of her command staff, were embarking on another mission and she always made sure she was present to see any of her teams off. The only difference now was that they weren't leaving through the Stargate.

Another group of people, some in white coats and others in blue shirts, stormed by without so much as a glance in her direction, their hands waving in the air enthusiastically. The group did pause long enough to stare at Sheppard's team as they moved in and out of the Manta, before continuing on their way. Elizabeth often wondered if the four people embarking on the mission today were ever aware of the mixture of envious, admiring, and uneasy gazes that continuously swept their way. It wasn't much different from the looks O'Neill's old team had received after years of working together.

Her own look was more neutral, at least she hoped it was, as her gaze settled mainly on the group of people milling about the Manta, thirty feet from her. Perhaps, to the average individual, it looked as though there was nothing more going on than the basic prep work for the mission. Nothing besides what everyone had grown accustomed to after finally beginning to understand the unique ways under which the team functioned.

McKay was complaining, loudly, about not being a pack horse as he crated a relatively small box inside the submersible. Ronon followed him in with a metal case about five times the size and when they emerged back onto the dock the large man still looked as though he was completely deaf to the complaints.

Sheppard was doing a last minute meeting with Major Lorne, who would be in charge while he was away and they both watched the proceedings on the dock with careful, calculating gazes while they conversed. Teyla was double-checking her gear and when McKay and Ronon joined her she smiled lightly at them, before rolling her eyes as Rodney suddenly began frantically patting down his vest. The Athosian put a hand on his arm, gaining his attention, and pointed at the box behind him where one of his scanners sat, waiting patiently. The Canadian relaxed immediately as he picked it up and began fiddling around with it for something to do.

To all outward appearances things were completely normal. Dr. Zelenka was bustling about the interior, the occasional muttered comment drifting from it before Rodney stomped back in declaring that everything he'd decided to bring on the mission was well within reason and as the Head Scientist of Atlantis his say was final. If Radek had a problem with that then he should go waste his time building an altar to the monkey gods and pray to them for whatever he needed because Rodney sure as hell wasn't going to give it to him. It was all perfectly normal.

Except that it really wasn't. Elizabeth knew her people, and in particular she knew this team very well. It wasn't difficult for her to pick up on the undercurrents in the group. The way Rodney's step stuttered every time he crossed the threshold into the Manta. The way Ronon's piercing gaze was constantly looking around for threats to the scientist as he huddled close. The way the Satedan almost couldn't hide his amusement at the things Rodney was saying. Teyla's stance was slightly more tense than usual and she was making more of an effort to appear relaxed even as she kept glancing to Rodney every time he stepped into and emerged from the submersible.

Elizabeth saw the tension in Sheppard's shoulders as he finished his brief meeting with Major Lorne, and she noted his posture stiffen even further as Major Thompkins joined his teammates to wish them luck. His green eyes narrowed briefly in annoyance before his normal, happy go lucky façade reappeared and he sauntered up to the group, purposely stepping between McKay and the investigator. Ronon looked between them and then checked his weapon, Teyla looked away to hide a smile, Rodney took no notice of the action and continued to talk to the Major right around Sheppard and Thompkins remained impassive, mostly.

Elizabeth didn't know what was running through Sheppard's head, in honesty she rarely did, but she would have had to be blind not to see the tension he carried, or the almost over protective way he was watching McKay when he thought no one was paying attention. The tension began when he'd learned of the investigation focused on his scientist, his close friend. It had increased drastically when Thompkins had informed them that he was really there to assess a possible threat to Rodney's life. That threat had her more worried than she would ever admit, and after seeing the evidence that had been collected, and then his two near deaths the previous day hadn't helped her sleep any better the night before.

However there was something more to Sheppard's tension and if she was correct in her assumptions she'd say that the soldier was jealous. Of what she couldn't be certain, but judging by the way he responded, subtly, to Thompkins every time he and Rodney were within shouting distance gave her a clue. She didn't know John very well on a personal level, but he'd given her insights, brief glimpses into his non-soldier persona, that had told her it was rare for him to find a connection with others, a true friendship. His psychiatric report stated that he preferred to remain detached as much as possible though he would be extremely outgoing when it came to making other people comfortable around him. He preferred acquaintances to friendships.

Atlantis had apparently changed a few things for him and despite all the attempts she had witnessed at keeping people close but at arms length, it hadn't worked this time. He was close to Teyla, he was becoming closer to Ronon, he had been close to Ford and it had taken a lot for him to come to grips with what had happened to his friend and fellow soldier. But his friendship with Rodney was different. They were friends, but their shared experiences, all their fights both fake and real, all the near deaths and the constant danger they now lived in, it had made them closer. Rodney had become Sheppard's closest friend, even if it had never been declared.

Thompkins presence was bothering Sheppard and she had decided it was because he had an apparent past relationship with Rodney. Whatever their connection was, it was obvious John didn't like not being apart of it. She was beginning to think he was a bit of the possessive type, which didn't shock her but it did amuse. She trusted him enough to know he wouldn't let it interfere with his work, in honesty she wasn't even sure Sheppard was aware of his actions, even if it was obvious to everyone but himself and Rodney.

Rodney looked away from the group suddenly, his eyes widening in an unreadable expression before he was cutting into the teams conversation and ushering them into the Manta, a disgruntled Radek leaving it moments later. As the door was sliding shut Sheppard turned and met her eyes, rolling his own at the action and silently declaring 'what can you do?' She looked over to where Rodney had glanced before his abrupt actions and saw Dr. Strat halfway up the docks and heading towards them. He frowned in disappointment when he saw that they had already closed the door and instead headed over to where she stood.

"Dr. Weir."

"Dr. Strat," she greeted, "have you come to see them off?"

"Yes, I have," he stated and then looked at the closed submersible with a frown. "Though I had hoped to have the chance to wish them luck."

"They would have appreciated the thought."

"Yes, well, I suppose I shouldn't have expected them to wait around. Dr. McKay doesn't have that kind of patience it seems. He could learn a thing or two from Dr. Carter in that regards," he commented absently, staring wistfully at the Manta and all of its sleek curves. She frowned at him, not quite knowing how to take that comment but before she had to formulate an answer Sheppard's team was requesting permission to launch.

Once they were on their way she wandered around the docks, looking at a variety of vessels that were either too damaged to fix or were being examined in order to be fixed. Then she had a quick meeting with Zelenka before heading over see how Carson was doing. He had been unable to wish them good luck as well, as a few patients had come limping in only the hour before.

When she reached the Stargate Control center over an hour and a half had passed and she sat in her office under the guise of reading reports as she waited. Fifteen minutes later Sheppard contacted them and she stood tensely as she listened to his report.

Dr. McKay had managed to figure out the docking procedure and they had had no difficulty gliding into the science station's small submersible bay. So far everything appeared to be okay, but they were going to do a few more scans before embarking on the station itself. He'd let her know when they would be leaving the known safety of the Manta for the uncertainty of the station. When the call finally came through she found herself gripping the railing overlooking the Stargate hard enough that her fingers hurt, and she forced herself to relax.

She hated not knowing every step of what was going on with her people.

* * * * * * * * * *

The Manta was different from the puddle jumpers Teyla had grown accustomed too. The thick blue that lay beyond the windows, in the place of either space or sky, was the largest change, as was the size and shape of the craft. What she noticed the most, however, and was having the most trouble adapting to, was the silence. Under the thickness of water there was no wind or rain to buffer the shuttle, and the hollow feeling of space was absent. This was a heavy, muffled silence that seemed to fill the entire compartment. Even Ronon seemed affected, sitting stiffly beside her. She spent the first half of their two-hour journey contemplating this before deciding her thoughts would be better focused elsewhere. It was only when they began their final approach to the science station, when Rodney finally looked up from his computer and console and spoke, did she realize the true weight of silence came not from what was outside the shuttle, but what was within.

His voice cracked slightly as he began instructing Sheppard on where to approach the station and while he flinched in reaction to his voice's betrayal, Teyla and the other two men in the Manta pretended not to notice. If the scientist was grateful he did not show it as he began to correct every action their team leader made. Colonel Sheppard, for his part, managed to refrain from snapping back, no doubt realizing that the remarks were more of a distraction to Rodney than true barbs. It did not stop the Colonel from responding sarcastically at some points, which fuelled Rodney's commentary and, in turn distracted him even more. She was relieved as the heavy silence lifted slightly and she noticed Ronon lose some of the stiffness to his posture.

Beyond the windows before them the giant metallic station slowly emerged from the darkness of the water. They had traveled just deep enough that the dark blue of the water was on the verge of completely loosing the light, and to see the structure floating so mysteriously beyond them was disconcerting to say the least.

If she had been asked three years earlier where she thought her people would reside in the future, the city of Atlantis would have failed to make it onto a list with thousands of destinations. Now she had difficulty imagining herself anywhere else as she worked alongside her closest allies, her friends, with her people safe on the mainland. At least they were as safe as they could be with the wraith about.

"Where did you get your boating license, Bumper Boats of America? We need to be going that way, Colonel," he pointed somewhere before them which, from Teyla's angle, looked to be away from the station.

"I'm aware of that, Rodney," Sheppard drawled the scientists name, "but there are these things called 'currents' that happen to exist underwater and, strangely enough, don't always allow for the most direct line of approach."

"If you stay on this line of approach you're going to be crashing into its side instead of coming up underneath it."

"Tell you what, how about you concentrate on figuring out how to get us through the shield that protects the station, and I'll worry about the driving."

"Well, if you-"

"That wasn't really a suggestion," Sheppard remarked, but there was no bite to his tone and Rodney huffed, seeing the futility of arguing.

"Fine, but if we crash you can't say I didn't warn you, explicitly."

"Noted. Oh, and for the record, since we're currently traveling in a submersible and not a boat, it would be a pilot's license, not a boating license." Rodney turned away from their team leader and muttered something that Teyla couldn't hear and, judging from the amused look on Ronon's face, she didn't really care to know. Instead she entertained herself by examining the structure before them.

It was just like the holographic image Rodney had shown them back in Atlantis, only not nearly as clear as its underside was in shadows and everything else appeared as a blurry blue-grey mass. None the less, it was fascinating. To think that people could build such incredible things! She had grown up with tales of technology and wonders such as this, but she had never truly seen or believed it. Of course her people had their own level of technology and she had traveled to many worlds with wondrous creations, but never before Atlantis had she understood the true scale of what was in existence. The largest technology she had ever experienced had been the wraith ships, and she and her people had been more concerned with destroying or escaping those monstrous vehicles than admiring them.

This was different, though. These explorations, while always coated with their own dangers brought hope to her, brought to her an amazement she had never thought she'd truly feel again. The structure before her was large, larger than she had thought it would be despite knowing that it held many laboratories, a control center, a recreational and food center and quarters for up to ten families. This station had been built for long term study and the Ancients had not seen any reason for the scientist's families to not accompany them with their work

She didn't quite know how to describe its shape as it was of a form she was unfamiliar with. She had decided it was like a bowl turned upside down only instead of being hollow it was mostly filled, leaving only the rim of the bowl free. Colonel Sheppard had declared that it looked like one of earths jellyfish as its rim was made up of large pieces of material which flowed with the water itself, slowly pulling in and spreading out with the currents and making it look as though it were truly alive.

Dr. McKay had explained to them, with the aide of Dr. Zelenka, that the station itself was designed to be self-sustaining. Much like the gills of a shark, once the station had been set in motion its ability to drift on the currents pulled water into it and, using the strength of the waters flow, they had managed to create an energy source which would flow continuously unless the station was forced to stop. If it stopped moving the water flow would ebb and once the reserves were used, like a shark, it would suffocate and drown.

The water was also the stations main source of propulsion and, as she understood it, there were massive water jets spaced over the entire surface of the station which, when needed, would propel the massive structure up or down, to the side, on an angle, or in any direction needed. It was similar to the propulsion systems on Atlantis which were designed to keep the city in one location. Zelenka had discovered that these jets were directly linked to the stations sensors and while the station flowed with the natural water currents it automatically received directional changes from the jets if, perhaps, it was approaching shallow water or an obstruction blocking its path. Dr. Zelenka had been very excited about this, while Rodney had been more interested in the data the station might provide, and though she couldn't follow half of what they said, their arguments over which was more important had been highly amusing.

"Aha!" McKay crowed from his seat up front, his eyes focused intently on something that his body blocked from her view and Sheppard glanced quickly at him before turning back to his own duties.

"Is that an 'aha, I've figured it out' or an 'aha, I've figured it out but not in time to stop us from being fried to a crisp by the shield surrounding the nice science station?'

"If it was the latter, I'm fairly certain I'd be a little louder about it," Rodney responded and, after grandly waving one arm in the air and diving in to hit a single button, he leaned back in his seat. "I've linked to the stations control room. There's a subroutine that recognizes friendly faces or, in this case, friendly submarines. Obviously the shield surrounds the entire station but it's designed to allow traveling submersibles in and out through the bay and we've been granted access."

"That's great," Sheppard nodded. "What exactly should I look out for?"

"I'm sorry, but where on my rather expansive resume does it say I have experience parking alien submarines in alien science stations under billions of liters of water on an alien planet? How should I know what to expect?"

"McKay," Sheppard warned, his concentration focused completely on maneuvering their submersible.

"The shield around the docking bay is designed to merge with this submersible, like a very advanced and large-scale form of osmosis. Just glide through it, the energy signatures will blend together and, in essence, become one, allowing us to pass through."

"And if it doesn't?"

"We'll probably overload every piece of equipment carrying even the tiniest hint of an energy source within this vehicle and electrocute ourselves to death before it overloads and explodes, destroying both our bodies and the entire station in one big, muffled boom."

"Oh, well, if that's all," Sheppard shrugged and then Teyla watched silently as they drifted up through the belly of the station and suddenly burst above the waters surface. "Well Rodney, looks like you knew what you were doing after all."

"Thanks for saying so, Colonel, your endorsement will be forever cherished," but Rodney was already hastily examining the environmental status of the station and Colonel Sheppard was contacting Atlantis to inform them of their successful docking. Teyla stood gracefully from her seat and, with Ronon's aide, began to prepare the necessary survival tanks for the mission. It wasn't long before Dr. McKay was snapping his computer shut and hastily shoving it into his pack before attaching it to his back.

"We won't be needing any of that gear, everything looks to be in working order out there," he determined, eyeing the wetsuits with distaste.

"We'll take the oxygen masks," Sheppard declared and Ronon tossed the suit he was holding onto the bench nearest them and picked up a compressed oxygen mask and a canister belt.

"It's really not necessary, Colonel."

"Humor me, McKay, I don't want to end this mission prematurely because of a computer glitch in the climate controls."

"Right, right, suffocating would be bad," he took the mask Teyla offered him with distaste but didn't complain as he pulled the support straps over his head and deftly locked the mask in placed over his mouth and nose. Teyla did the same, instantly irritated with the way the straps sat across the top of her hair and pressed down slightly on her ears. The mask itself wasn't heavy and she clipped the canister to her vest, making sure the short hose connecting the two objects was properly attached. She attached her own belt so the three spare atmosphere tanks sat off of her left hip and then lifted her weapon to indicate her readiness.

The Manta's hatch lowered slowly, and they were greeted by a cold and mostly dark interior which was not at all inviting, but the moment Colonel Sheppard stepped onto the metal flooring everything seemed to burst into life. The lights flared on brightly, there were some odd clicking sounds and then the thrum of a fan seemed to blare before falling almost silently into the background. She looked around quickly, assessing the area for signs of threat that might jump out from the now lit corners. Not seeing any, she stepped forward with Sheppard and turned to look carefully around the other side of the Manta and clearing that area of danger as well.

They moved quickly through the dock, which was just large enough to hold three Manta's and nothing more. Infiltrating and exploring places such as this was not her expertise, by far, but the same principles applied when making sure it was safe. She preferred a planet with open air, a forest, fields as opposed to buildings with metallic hallways and room after room. She was comfortable in nature, she understood it and though Ronon looked as impassive as always she knew he felt the same way. But this area is where the people of Atlantis seemed to thrive. They were very good out doors, there was no question about that (though she still secretly considered herself and Ronon superior to their well honed skills) but they were also very good indoors. Perhaps it was their life long affiliation with solid structures that gave them this ease. If that were the case Ronon should probably be comfortable indoors as well, but he had been a runner for a long time and sometimes the lessons of the wilderness are remembered better than those of civilization.

Despite her slight discomfort she was fully capably of performing her duties. The air was frigid, her fingers and forehead had turned icy cold almost instantly as she carefully walked around the material covered consoles and bits of cloth that had fallen from their place and onto the floor. But after the first five minutes she began to notice the change in the temperature, her fingers slowly began to feel normal again. Relieved she looked behind her to Dr. McKay, who had uncharacteristically not uttered a word. She was concerned.

With Sheppard on point and Ronon taking up the rear she stepped quietly beside her team mate and friend, noting how his hand was shaking as he held one of his instruments before him. Beneath the mask his face was pale, almost ghostly but with red cheeks from the cold and he refused to look up from his tool. She wanted to touch his arm gently in reassurance, but she had been doing that a lot these last few weeks and she was afraid that the action, if repeated too often, might eventually do more harm than good. Instead she decided that a verbal approach was best.

"Are you all right, Dr. McKay?" Sheppard looked back sharply at her quiet question, his eyes narrowed in concern but, after a quick nod from her, he continued with his scouting and pretended as though he were not listening intently to every word. Behind them she heard Ronon slow his steps to give them the illusion of slight privacy, even though his sharp ears would hear everything.

"Fine, fine. I'm fine. Why? I don't look fine?" He sounded anything but fine.

"You seem a little pale," she answered honestly and he took a deep, shuddering breath and attempted a weak smile.

"It's the cold," he said quietly, self deprecatingly, and still refused to meet her eyes. But his color was already looking a bit better and it seemed her distraction had been successful in pulling him out of his thoughts.

"It was a bit shocking."

"Yeah. I uhhh, I wasn't expecting it and it…threw me off guard a bit. I don't normally react like this to temperature, unless its hot, of course. But cold? It never used to be a problem for me, I could spend hours outside in the winter as a kid, not always by choice mind you, as my parents needed to have some time away from me. Hell, Antarctica didn't bother me at all and let me tell you that place was like living in a fridge," he explained hastily, as though the mere thought of admitting that the cold bothered him was some form of personal failure.

"It is only natural, after suffering from the cold as you did not so long ago, that it would bother you now. There is nothing to worry about here though; the heat has already begun to warm the air as we travel." He had been sick when they had rescued him from the downed jumper. Hypothermia, Dr. Beckett had called it, and it had taken days for Rodney to fully recover and begin to feel warm again. He'd worn his warmest clothing for a week after being released form the infirmary, despite the warm temperatures of the city. She should have realized that the suddenness of this cold atmosphere would have been a shock to him. It seemed this entire mission was centralized around one uncomfortable issue after another for her friend, but after her words, he looked up and met her eyes briefly, his small smile becoming less forced.

"Yes, I can feel that now," he replied, silently thanking her for helping him and he stood taller, no longer hunching in on himself and she took a step away to give him his space. The corridor they traversed seemed to follow the outer wall of the station, curving gently as they moved along it.

"We need to take a right down the next hallway," Rodney informed them, looking ahead at Sheppard to make sure he heard.

"I can find the control center, McKay. I managed to read and memorize the maps before we left home."

"Ha, you couldn't find your way out of a box with no walls, Colonel…" Sheppard's stiffness abated at the insult, Ronon moved closer once again and they took the next right as ordered. It took three very long and, at least for Teyla, stressful hours for the scientist to examine every functioning system on the station and declare it fully operational and structurally sound. Once it was deemed safe to explore fully, just as long as they didn't do anything stupid and touch something, she relaxed and settled in for the remaining few hours of their mission. Once the day was done they would head back to Atlantis and from there Rodney would organize a proper research team. It was, for once, a successful mission.

* * * * * * * * * *

"We weren't there long enough for me to begin searching the database in any depth," Rodney paused a moment to toss Colonel Sheppard a disgruntled glare and received a raised eyebrow in return, "but we scratched the surface enough to learn the basics."

"Which is, as I recall, what our mission objective called for and nothing more," the Colonel looked at Elizabeth and smiled charmingly, much to McKay's obvious disgust. Elizabeth found that, no matter how many meetings she had been involved in (which she personally believed was a number exceeding infinity), she had not yet decided whether she should be amused or annoyed at the sometimes childish behavior between the two men who would be in charge of Atlantis should something ever happen to her. Her general rule of thumb was that, so long as there were no crises either taking place or threatening to take place, than she could allow herself to enjoy the humor they brought to the table. She had been controlling her smile since the four seated around the table had entered the room, and that meant that today was a good day.

"What did you manage to find?" She asked Rodney, noting Sheppard's grin as she ignored his comment.

"The station was as cold as a meat locker in Russia and the air was stale, but now that it's no longer floating around in hibernation mode the main life support systems have kicked in and warmed it up to comfortable levels. The air filtration systems are fully functional, as well. There doesn't appear to be any danger to the structural integrity of the station both from what we saw and what the system told us."

"In other words, we think its safe enough to return with a _small_ contingent to explore in more depth before bringing a full team over." She didn't miss the way Sheppard emphasized the size of the party that would return upon her approval, nor the eye roll from McKay and neutral looks from both Teyla and Ronon. When there were no other comments forthcoming from any members of the team she nodded, having planned for this outcome along with several others.

"All right, I want your team as well as the two scientists Dr. McKay has already selected to be ready to depart at 0800 hours tomorrow morning. Once you conclude the safety of the station, I'll consider your request for a longer stay of study," she looked at Rodney who was nodding enthusiastically at her even though she knew he was mostly thinking about what he had to prepare for that mission. "Does anyone else have anything to add? No? Then all I have left to say is good work." She dismissed them, smiling as they all quickly filed out of the room.

* * * * * * * * * *


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

* * * * * * * * * *

**Earth, Present Day**

"I had a very interesting conversation the other day," Gerald said after placing his coffee mug on the table and thrumming the fingers of his right hand on the cold metal surface. Greenwall's gaze flickered to his hand, narrowing as they continued their beat. Gerald pretended not to notice.

"How pleasant for you," the scientist responded and looked back at Gerald. His eyes were pinched around the edges and he was looking less rested than he had the week before.

"It was with a Mr. Raymond Miller," he informed him and watched as Greenwall thought about it.

"I'm sorry, but he doesn't sound familiar to me."

"Oh, right. I apologize, it's been a while since you've thought of him, no doubt, and he has since divorced and remarried, taking his new wife's last name. You'd probably remember him better as Professor Raymond Hershey."

"My thesis advisor at the University of Toronto," Greenwall helpfully informed him. Gerald nodded.

"Yes, him. He retired four years ago and moved to Florida. He had some very interesting things to say to me once he knew why I'd asked to speak with him."

"Is that so," he sounded disinterested, but Gerald saw that his right hand was clenched tightly before the scientist pulled it from the table to rest out of sight. He had his attention, and Gerald knew that playing with it wasn't going to get him anywhere, so he leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on the table, his hands loosely clasped. Greenwall, seated a meter and a half away (the distance was a bit ridiculous, but Gerald had heard they got the table on sale) merely watched him and waited.

"It is. As it turns out, he's been feeling a little bit guilty for the last twenty-one years or so. Apparently he was just waiting for someone to ask him the right questions to absolve said guilt."

"What is your point, Mr. Prince?"

"I think you know what it is, but since you've asked so nicely, I'll enlighten you." He paused and pulled out a folder, flipping it open, taking his time as he pretended to read something and taking another sip of his coffee. When he looked up, Greenwall's composure had slipped a fraction more, his clenched hand was back on the table and his eyes were more pinched. Months of slowly picking at the man's composure were finally paying off. It was amazing how often the littlest things drove people as collected as him to confession.

Greenwall was struggling to appear unaffected, but the slip in his self-control was no doubt making him even angrier.

"Mr. Miller informed me, in great detail, of his part in your theft of Dr. McKay's thesis for your masters degree. The Relativistic Effects Upon Subatomic Particles in the Theoretical Subspace Dimension, catchy title." He pulled the thesis from his brief case and slid the heavy book across to Greenwall, who put his hand out to stop it from falling on his lap. "It's not exactly my cup of tea, but I hear it turned some important heads in the past," he needled. Greenwall was still staring at the bound thesis, his eyes narrowed and lips puckered slightly in thought before he laughed once, sharply, and pushed it away from him.

"He's lying. That's a ridiculous accusation with no merit."

"He has proof. He was better at covering his tracks than you gave him credit for, and with his clean criminal record and reputation his word will go a long way in supporting his evidence. We've already acquired both, so were something to happen to Mr. Miller, the accusation and evidence will still be admissible." Victory! Gerald bit back a smirk as Greenwall, for the first time in all these long months, sat back in his seat and rubbed an agitated hand through his thick hair. "Looks like McKay wasn't lying after all."

Greenwall looked sharply at him, and Gerald waited for him to say something but the silence dragged on a moment.

"Well, I personally don't blame you for passing his work off as your own. I can't imagine being friends with anyone as inherently smart as Dr. McKay. I'm sure you were well aware of all the other projects and papers he was working on, and figured he would be able to pull off a second thesis." A vein that Gerald had never noticed before began to throb along Greenwall's temple and the man was sitting so straight in his seat that his spine was practically adjusting itself. Gerald looked down at the notes in the file before him, not seeing the words at all as part of the McKay puzzle finally came together. "Except that you hadn't thought he could pull it off in the few days you allotted to him. I've got to admit, that was a hell of an accomplishment for the kid, even if he had been starting from a draft."

He was in new territory now; the carefully constructed facade that Archibald Greenwall habitually wore had cracked, and let a little of his true character out to play. He was a dangerous man. He was an ambitious man. The conversation Gerald had had with Miller two days before had told him more than the dozens of psyche evaluations he had poured over, all of which had outlined his strong mental soundness and gentle soul.

The irony was that the initial blackmail wasn't all that terrible in the first place. Hell, Miller had ended up divorcing his wife four years after he had been blackmailed by Greenwall (on the grounds that she had been cheating on him), which made the entire situation that much more absurd. Greenwall had been young though, and Miller had probably been one of his first victims. It had been a crucial move for Greenwall. The thesis had put his foot in the door and started him on his PhD, but it was only one of a large string of lies, a tapestry of deceit that seemed to grow in severity along with his career. Right up until the point where he blackmailed his way into becoming the CSO on Atlantis and they still couldn't find the evidence they needed to prove this.

What they needed was for Greenwall to tell them what they wanted to know, and McKay was the key. It didn't take a genius to see the jealousy and anger he held for the Canadian scientist, it just took a special knack to bring it into the open.

"Of course, it probably didn't help that the thesis he spit out after just a few sleepless nights was, in fact, better than his first. You lost another grant to him over that, didn't you?"

"I don't know where you're going with this, Prince, so how about you cut your praises for the child prodigy out of this conversation, and get to the point." That was probably the closest Greenwall had ever come to growling.

"I don't really have a point. I'm just saying that it must have been difficult being in his shadow, especially as he was so young. Nineteen years old and completing his second masters and first PhD. at the same time. Who wouldn't be annoyed by that, especially someone with your level of intelligence?"

"Don't belittle me, and don't compare me to him," he snarled.

"Compare? I'm sorry, I know you're a highly intelligent individual; after all you've only stolen his _one_ thesis, but there really is no comparing you to Dr. McKay. He's in a league of his own."

"So he's been known to declare."

"I'm guessing that working with him at Area 51 wasn't easy, either. You had seniority over him there, didn't you?" Gerald asked, but didn't bother waiting for a reply and hoping he wasn't pressing his luck by pushing too hard, too fast. "I've done quite a few interviews there and from what I've been able to decipher, he treated you with as much disrespect as possible. He wouldn't even be seen in the same room with you at times. That must have hurt your status a bit."

"Actually, it probably helped."

"It didn't help that much," Gerald pulled yet another file from his brief case and gently lay it on the table between them. "Twelve officially logged complaints that were accepted and then conveniently forgotten about, and four drafts. People hadn't quite started to take his views of your competence seriously, but they would have eventually."

"What are you getting at?"

"China, or more specifically, your hand in McKay's abduction while at the conference."

"Oh please, as if I could be-"

"His abduction was well planned and well orchestrated. Security had been tight, nobody knew that you or McKay would be attending the conference until the very last minute and your actions at area 51 were monitored closely enough at that time for us to know that you couldn't have planned the entire thing."

"That's because I didn't," he growled, and the vein was still throbbing in his forehead and his eyes had turned a deeper shade of green in his anger.

"No, but you told the Trust he was going to be there, you even provided them with his travel arrangements. You can deny it, but we have proof." Okay, that was a lie, they still had nothing but suspicions and the accusations of Rodney McKay which had been released (as a footnote in a very small font) along with the declassification of that entire fiasco. But Gerald was good at lying. That's why he was here.

"That's a load of bullshi…"

"The Trust won't be as forgiving of your betrayal as the SGC has been," he stated flatly, and stared at the man across from him. Greenwall stared right back, searching for the truth in his eyes and Gerald gave it to him. He saw the moment when Greenwall accepted the lie, the moment when his anger slipped and a hint of uncertainty leaked through as he grasped the implications.

Gerald would never understand people like Greenwall. There was nothing in his records to indicate how he grew into the deceitful, power hungry individual he was. He had been raised in a good home, with only the usual childhood pains to help develop his character. What he didn't get from his family, he worked for. He'd been in the hospital a total of three times in his life, once for appendicitis, once for a broken finger and once for a broken collarbone from a backyard football game.

He had friends, he was athletic, and he was highly intelligent. So, what was it that turned someone like that, into the man sitting across from him today?

"The Trust?" Greenwall tried to sound as confident as he always did, but it fell flat and they both knew it.

"I'll admit the entire plan was convenient. The Chinese had a Stargate that the Trust was in the process of acquiring. You give them McKay so he could build them a functional DHD for their gate, while you sneak into the conference and present his work along with your own and make a better name for yourself. That way you could worm your way even deeper into the SGC. What did you plan to do once you went as far as you could? How much power did you think you could gather while living in the Trusts pocket?"

"I'm not living in their pocket," he spat, and just like that the truth was out. It actually took Gerald a moment to comprehend what Greenwall had just admitted to.

"I suppose you aren't, not completely anyway. After all, I doubt they told you to kill McKay when you were on Atlantis."

"I didn't try to kill him there," a little spark was back in Greenwall's eyes and Gerald made a quick step to squash it.

"A scientist was sent to Atlantis to examine the holographic unit Cadross in greater detail. The last report claimed that the device didn't look as though it could be falsely tampered with, something about failsafes. We'll be receiving the final report as soon as the Daedalus is within communication range, and then we will have full authority to use Cadross's recording as legal evidence against you."

"I'm still going to deny it," he declared with authority, but he no longer looked as though he fully believed it.

"Which you never would have had to do if he'd just died the first time around in China," he pointed out and Greenwall snorted at that.

"I could only hope that they would kill him. I don't deny it was a possibility, but I doubted it would happen. He would have broken eventually, and told them everything with more ease than he insults people. He would have been the possible down fall of the SGC. The Trust chose him over Samantha Carter because they knew he would be easier to break. If Hilliard hadn't been so weak, you never would have found him."

"True, but things have a way of working out for the better."

Hilliard had been the guard on duty that night for Dr. McKay. The majority of scientists were provided with guards at the conference, but it was clear that some required guards with a higher level of skill; while it sounded cruel to say it, some scientists were more important than others. McKay had had the best, because the US military wasn't about to let something happen to the Canadian, or let him run off with all that classified information in his head.

Lieutenant Hilliard had been bought by the trust, months before, and it had been arranged so that he was assigned to McKay, though how they had managed that had never been determined. He had personally handed McKay over to his captors and returned to his duty as though his assignment had been in his room sleeping the rest of the night. Once his shift was over he had completely disappeared, and all hell had broken loose.

Gerald didn't have to know as much as he did about the program to understand that if a man like Dr. McKay ever decided to work for the "other side" they would be in a bad way. If a man like Dr. Rodney McKay hadn't been able to withhold information for the few days he had, then they could very well be looking at a different power balance across the entire globe at the moment.

He supposed he should be thankful that Hilliard had had a change of heart and made his way to the American consulate to tell them where the scientist was. Of course, the fact that he had a bullet in his side from an attempted assassination had helped motivate him greatly to confess on McKay's whereabouts for both revenge and as a means to procure medical aid and live to deal with the fallout.

"I don't work for the Trust. That was the first and only time I've had any real contact with them."

"I don't believe you."

"There's a surprise. Believe what you want, that's how I'm telling it."

"I want to know who is working for the Trust in Atlantis and trying to assassinate McKay."

"What? Did I not just tell you, I don't know anything about the Trust," he sneered.

"Tell me who was sent to kill McKay."

"I. Don't. Know. I wish them luck, but beyond that there's nothing I can tell you, even if I wanted to." He folded his arms across his chest, his eyes cold as he stared across the table at Gerald. The only reason he had for not telling Gerald who was trying to kill McKay now was purely revenge based, and Gerald couldn't decide if that was why he was keeping quiet, or if he truly didn't know.

"I want a full confession about China and I want to know everything you know about the Trust."

"Of course, you do," he sneered, but Gerald knew he would comply. There wasn't any point in denying it anymore. Attempted murder, espionage, blackmail…he was not going to get out of it this time. An investigation into his original thesis, the one he had stolen from McKay, was already underway. Once that cleared, his masters would be pulled and an investigation into his PhD and second Masters degrees would be launched. At which point, Gerald was pretty sure his title would be revoked, since his PhD was based on a continuation of his stolen master thesis. Any standing he once had within the scientific community was gone. After months of interrogation and investigation, Gerald had most of what he wanted.

There was more to this story, much more, but he would get the rest of it at another time. Now however, he was going to go home and cut the grass, cook dinner, drink a toast to McKay, the poor bastard, and then spend the night reminding his wife why she married him.

Everything else could be dealt with in the morning.

* * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

Carson took one look at Rodney as he strolled confidently into the room and went right back to examining the marrow sample under his microscope, doing his damnedest to ignore the man. He knew Rodney was looking for him and not one of the many doctors littered throughout this particular lab, and he knew exactly what he was going to ask.

"Carson, just the sheep loving haggis fan I was looking for. I was hoping-"

"No," Carson cut him off mid-sentence.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask," Rodney declared, narrowing his eyes.

"I do know what you were goin' te ask and the answer is still no. No no no…" he looked away from his microscope a moment to smile politely at his friend. It was strange how easy it was to say the simple two-letter word. Carson knew himself well enough to understand that in many cases he was a pushover. His entire life he had had difficulty saying 'no' to people whenever they came to him for favors. 'Carson, will you watch litt'l William fer me as ah go to the market, lad? There's a good boy' or 'Carson, I know it's the last cookie but you know how much I like them…' or 'Carson, sit your non-kilted ass in that chair right now and make it glow or I will personally ensure that the heat in your room suffers an absence!' His whole life he'd been saying yes to people, until he'd spent a little time with Rodney. Would wonders never cease? Apparently Rodney thought so.

"What do you mean, no? How could you possibly turn down an opportunity like this?"

"Oh, I don't know," he looked at his friend as though he had to really think about his answer, "maybe the fact that I don't like cats. At all. As in not in the slightest and, in this case, especially not Bert and Ernie"

"It's MAX and Ernie! And no matter what Sheppard says it's going to remain MAX and Ernie! And how can you not like cats?"

"Well let's see…maybe I don't like the fact that they have claws and teeth which they use in a valiant attempt to maim me every bloody chance they get!" He lifted his right hand up, displaying the back of it. He'd taken the little bandages off a few days before but his pale skin still boasted faint scars from the little demons.

"Oh please, if you hadn't reached down to tickle his stomach when I warned you not to-"

"I was picking up my drink!"

"The point is that it was an isolated incident and that's not a good enough reason not to like cats."

"Oh, really? Then how about I mention their skill at breaking delicate things and the fact that they like to walk all over you when ye least want them to! If I wanted something to walk and climb all over me, I'd acquire a girlfriend. Do I look like I have the time fer a girlfriend, Rodney?"

"Oh, please, we both know women don't interest you," Rodney rolled his eyes as if this were a common fact, which had Carson's face turning red instantly.

"I assure you, they do interest me, and now my answer is _definitely_ no."

"Carson, who am I going to leave them with then?"

"You're not leaving for two more days, and half the bloody city is begging you fer the job. Find one of those masochists who like the bloody things."

"As if I'm going to give in to the grovelling crowds of this city," he harped, looking disgusted at the mere thought. "Besides, I don't trust anyone else enough to take care of them…except Elizabeth, and I get the impression she's more of a dog person." Well, he was right there, and Carson was slightly touched that of all the willing people around, Rodney wanted him to watch his pets. But still, he really didn't like cats.

"She's more of a cat person than I am, Rodney. I like fish, tropical fish that are brightly coloured and require very little maintenance once they're set up in their tank. Cats eat fish, therefore we're natural enemies. No good would come of this."

"So that means you'll take them, right?"

"Where did the phrases _no_ and _natural enemies_ translate into _yes, Rodney, I'd love to watch your children for you?_"

"It didn't, but being the good friend that you are, I know you'll agree to help me in the end." Well, he didn't have to look so pained when he said that.

"No."

"I'll fix your iPod for you."

"It's not broken." Carson noted the rather pointed stare coming from his friend and sighed. He knew the threat was mostly harmless, but when Rodney made a decision he would not be deterred by mere words or threat of nuclear bombardment. Subconsciously Carson had known the moment Rodney walked into the lab that he was going to cave in and agree to watch his pets. Now it was just a matter of holding out for something better than having his iPod dismantled. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Rodney, not impressed with the threat.

"I'll let you use Cadross as your personal secretary the entire time I'm gone."

"Will that scientist be through examining him by that time?"

"Yes."

"And you'll tell him te only call me Carson or Dr. Beckett from now on," because Braveheart had gotten old very fast…at least to Carson. His ancestry wasn't even of the same clan!

"Fine."

"Okay, then. But just so you know, you will owe me one for this."

"Oh please, after the number of times I've saved your Scottish behind, we'll call this even." The man was absolutely aggravating, but the bounce in his step and the happy smile on his face were well worth the pain Carson was going to suffer. It had been a rough few months for his friend, hell it had been a rough year in general, but after Doranda things seemed to be slightly more harsh. The months following that disaster (which had subsequently resulted in Rodney's two leopard tabby kittens) had been filled with slowly rebuilding trusts and painstakingly dragging Rodney out of his self-imposed protective shell. They had made great progress, and Rodney had finally started to take the initiative to drag them out at random moments to help him with projects, to join him for meals, or just for entertainment purposes. Even after being stuck on the bottom of the ocean with nothing but a concussion, damaged ribs, claustrophobia and hypothermia for company Rodney had seemed to be able to bounce back better than expected.

They had all suffered through trying times, each with their own difficulties and it was blatantly obvious that they all needed the support of each other from time to time, whether they wanted it or not. Carson thought that they had all learned from their mistakes after Doranda, even if Rodney had been stubborn about it at first and ridiculously slow to realize he didn't have to deal with everything by his lonesome. It was obvious the Canadian still had trust issues, which were well camouflaged between all his confident blustering, complaining and insults, and his actions on the puddle jumper, the belief that he had to depend on himself for survival had simply reaffirmed Carson's thoughts. Then again, it sometimes felt as though most of the people on this base had trust issues, especially those individuals in command positions. They were all scouting into new territory as they continued to learn to reach out to each other. Carson thought it might just be easier to get everyone absolutely knackered one night and have the lot of them just get it all out on the table. Then again, that might just make things worse.

"Hardly even, if you account for the amount of bandaids I've wasted on your phantom injuries."

"I have never had a phantom injury!" He declared quickly, but the teasing tone that had been present in his voice only moments before was suddenly gone and Rodney actually looked offended at the tease. Carson watched him in confusion.

"I know that Rodney, I'm just teasing ye." He really shouldn't have to explain that, and normally he wouldn't have to, but Rodney had been a bit more sensitive than was usual for him lately.

"I know that," he scoffed and then stood taller. "Regardless, thank you for doing this favour for me."

"As if I had a choice."

"You didn't really, but I appreciate it all the same."

"Well, I will be procuring Cadross's aid, so it might almost be worth while," which was very true. Carson wasn't sure when or how Rodney had found Cadross (there were so many rumors and Rodney had really enjoyed not telling anyone the full story), but the holographic (suspected AI) man had turned out to be extremely useful; both as an aid and as an impromptu counsellor for Rodney. Carson and Heightmeyer had discussed that, while Rodney booked regular counselling sessions willingly and of his own regard, he tended to side step a lot of emotional issues. Carson suspected that with Cadross he just let it all out, and he personally felt that it was helping his friend in a positive way.

"Almost be worth it? You get Max, Ernie _and_ Cadross and it's _almost_ worth it? You are a very strange man, Carson."

"I've been accused of worse." Out of the entire situation one thing was sure: the Canadian was going to owe him big time for taking his little feline beasts, and Carson was definitely planning on using that to his advantage.

"Right, hey listen, you haven't noticed anything strange about certain members of my team lately have you?"

"I…what?"

"My team, my team," he waived his hand around in the air as though Carson should be used to his tendencies to abruptly change his subjects by now. "Are they acting a bit strange to you lately?"

"Well, I can't say I've spent a great deal of time around them lately, but other than that, no. Why? Is there something wrong with them?"

"No, probably not. You know me, I'm just letting my normal paranoia cloud my thinking. It's just that I could have sworn I saw Ronon stalking me the other day, and Teyla's been hanging around a little more than usual…and Radek is practically working out of my pocket. And Sheppard…actually he's being his normal annoying self, though I think he's being a bit nicer. Should I be worried about that? Is there something wrong with him…is there something wrong with me? Are you keeping important medical information from me, Carson, because if you are-"

"Rodney, when have I ever kept medical information from you?"

"When I came back from R3X P2Y, you-"

"Besides that time!" He hastily interrupted, trying to force that particular memory out of his mind.

"After P3X Y23, and I was-"

"Ye know what? Ferget I asked. I don't think they're acting any differently, but I'm not the one around them all the time. However, I should point out that ye've been under a wee bit of stress this past week, what with the discovery of the station and the hindrance of the investigation. Have you been sleeping properly?" Should he even bother asking him that?

"Of course. I get a good four to five hours most nights," he declared, perhaps a little too forcefully. Carson's eyes narrowed in suspicion but he didn't call his friend on his hasty response. Four to five hours probably meant two to three. Some people were blessed with the ability to function fully after only a few hours of sleep a night and Rodney was one of them, which came in bloody handy in times of crisis but Beckett had been trying to encourage the man to get a bit more sleep for the last two years with little success. At the moment though he suspected Rodney was having difficulty sleeping that wasn't related to his bodies physical needs, and there was nothing he could do to help his friend there unless Rodney asked for it. It was time to change the subject.

"I don't want to see those beasts at all until you're practically through the gate," he declared and snuck a look at the back of his hand, seeing the faint pink scars and grimacing. Little beasts.

"No problem," Rodney smiled his patented crooked grin and turned to leave, his mind obviously putting this conversation behind. Just as he reached the door Carson called after him.

"And just so ye're aware, not all Scots like haggis and wool irritates my skin." Rodney laughed, but that was his only response. Carson turned back to his work and waited a solid ten minutes before taking a break. A break which led him to his computer and had him sending a quick email to the Colonel, telling him that they needed to watch Rodney with more caution, as he was getting suspicious. At least when they were working on the science station he should be safe from whoever it was that was trying to kill him this time. Perhaps it would give Major Thompkins more time to find and arrest the traitor in Atlantis.

* * * * * * * * *

Upon entering the conference room Thompkins looked around and noticed that besides Dr. Strat and Dr. Weir he was the only individual who had arrived. This in itself wasn't a problem as having decided he'd had enough of looking through grievance reports against McKay was getting rather tedious. He nodded at Strat politely, not having really seen him in about two days, and then greeted Dr. Weir in the same manner. She nodded back, but instead of smiling at him like she normally might she simply stared at him a long moment and he could practically see the gears of her sharp mind turning behind her eyes.

The assessing gaze had come right out of left field and while he hadn't expected it he tried his best to look as though he didn't really notice, instead taking a seat to her left and hoping he didn't come across as too stiff. It was only a matter of seconds before the calculating gaze relaxed and she appeared to come to some form of conclusion as her entire face changed from tense to welcoming and she smiled at him as he was settling in. He felt himself relaxing slightly, feeling as though he'd passed some kind of test.

They remained in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Weir and Strat idly flipping through notes before the meeting began. It wasn't long before Sheppard, Dex and Emmagen breezed into the room together, sharing greetings all around (and in Dex's case a little grunt) as they settled in to wait for the last two who would complete this meeting. He found his eyes automatically drifting to Sheppard, who had pulled out the chair across from him.

Sheppard slouched lazily in his seat, looking as though his only concern was whether or not he should put his feet up on the table or leave them planted on the floor. If Thompkins hadn't been very familiar with the Colonel's file, from both before Atlantis and, more importantly, while on Atlantis then he would have taken one look at the current military commander and deduced that they were all screwed. As it was, sitting across from someone in the uniform who was so relaxed was a little disconcerting. The only other military officer that he knew holding a rank higher than a major being this relaxed, was General O'Neill.

He wasn't sure if he was comforted by the comparison, or not.

It was blatantly apparent to Thompkins that, despite the casual attitude and the tendency to ask stupid questions, the Colonel was very, very far from an idiot. His file had made a point of mentioning this, but Thompkins had always been a man who preferred to assess such things for himself. The high regard McKay had for Sheppard was apparent to Thompkins almost immediately and, frankly, that was all the confirmation of intelligence on Sheppard's behalf that he needed.

Looking across the table at Sheppard again it appeared that the man had decided on keeping his feet on the ground as they waited for the rest of the group to arrive. He was blatantly watching Thompkins, and where their eyes met he merely nodded and tossed out a lazy grin. Beside him Ronon sat, just as lazily in his chair, his eyes flicking between his team leader and Thompkins but not giving any of his emotions away. At least he wasn't staring at him anymore, because that was just nerve wracking, and he wasn't used to feeling threatened by a mere look.

He nodded back at Sheppard and then sipped his coffee as an excuse to break eye contact. Thompkins was a big guy and he had a vast knowledge of hand to hand combat, weapons and explosives expertise, but having another staring contest with Sheppard was not high on his list of things to do. He honestly liked the man and, after observing him for a few days, he had learned to understand and respect his command style. He knew that, after telling him of his suspicions surrounding Atlantis's head scientist, Sheppard had decided to trust him as well, and that he didn't really have anything against him. That hadn't stopped Thompkins from picking up on a few negative vibes occasionally sent his way by the man.

It had taken him five entire days to decipher what the occasional closed off looks and a few comments meant. Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard was jealous of the fact that he had a past connection with Rodney that he hadn't yet figured out. Apparently Rodney hadn't felt the need to share what happened in China with his friends yet, especially if Sheppard's sometimes subtle, sometimes blatantly obvious quests for information on their relationship were anything to go by.

He wasn't letting it affect his duties though, not by a long shot. The emotions were simply a very light undercurrent that Thompkins probably only picked up because he was trained to notice such things. That didn't stop him from thinking that the Colonel's emotions were misplaced though. He and Rodney had a bond, a connection bred from being thrust together during a fucking awful situation and making the best of it. They had shared some things that would never, under any other circumstances, be shared between them willingly. Not by a long shot. They hadn't even tried to contact one another once that time had been over, be it because it was too painful to be reminded of or the simple fact that they had no real place in each other's lives.

The difference between Thompkins and Sheppard, the difference the Colonel was apparently unaware of, was that were the Atlantis project to end this very moment and everyone went back to earth and moved to different ends of the globe, McKay would not lose contact with Sheppard. To Thompkins, that said more about the strength of their relationship than anything else. The Colonel had absolutely nothing to be jealous about, if anything it was Thompkins that felt he should be jealous, simply on principle. God, McKay drew crazy emotions from people.

* * * * * * * * *

"Gentlemen, nice of you to join us," Dr. Weir announced as both McKay and Zelenka stepped into the conference room, practically arm in arm. Rodney's eyes widened slightly.

"Are we late?" he asked, actually sounding offended by the idea as he moved to check the thick sports watch on his left wrist.

"Not at all, you're right on time," Weir assured him, smiling as he nodded in acceptance and then swiftly opened the notebook he had carried in under his arm.

"Right, of course," he was focusing more on the computer than what he was saying, and missed the slight grins and eye rolls around the room. Dr. Strat didn't show any emotions one way or another.

"Well, I suppose you want to know what we found on our last trip to the station," he announced.

"That is why we're having this meeting," Sheppard drawled, turning his seat back and forth a bit and smiling at Rodney's glare. Zelenka, deciding to forestall a possible argument cut in quickly, with a skill that had apparently been honed after many meetings with the two men.

"All environmental systems are one hundred percent operational over entire station. As is the navigation of the station and its engines."

"I thought you said that the station flowed with the waters currents," Teyla spoke up.

"Yes, and it does, but it also has the capability of being directed manually. After circling the ocean for the last ten thousand years we figured it had gathered enough data and we could stop it for a while," Rodney explained.

"We have the station remaining at its current location, which is approximately twenty seven and a half kilometres from us now. It is easier for us to travel back and forth if we have a shorter distance to go," Zelenka announced from his seat and shifted his chair over as Rodney took his own beside him.

"Why don't you bring it closer?" Ronon asked, sounding disinterested but looking as though he were listening to every word.

"The fact that we managed to discover it while it was so close is a small miracle in itself. It could have been on the other side of the planet, which could have taken hours to get to. Also, we don't want to bring it too close to the city in case, though it is highly unlikely, something happens and it decides to explode. It's just a safety precaution."

"That's reasonable," Weir intoned.

"Yes, it is. What isn't reasonable is everything else about the place," Rodney sighed, frustrated and Zelenka spoke up.

"While environment and navigation are fully operational and station is secure and safe, the main database is a mess. We know where all primary functions are, and we have been able to catalogue different sections of station and all functions, but beyond that it is in bad state."

"Basically what he means is that most of the other functions on the station are inaccessible. The good news is that it is not impossible to fix and we've already begun making progress on certain systems. However, there is a lot there and, with the possible damage to certain systems that we haven't been able to decipher yet, it's going to take a bit of work to have it fully functioning before we can find the information on the alloy we're looking for."

"Is it unsafe to send a team over for a prolonged study?" Weir looked between the two scientists.

"We do not believe so. As long as everyone is very careful and nobody works on systems until Dr. McKay or myself examine and give express permission then we foresee no real danger." The meeting continued for another half hour or so as they discussed what they'd need, how much time it could possibly take, and who would be going before it was finally over. Thompkins recognized the name of each scientist and soldier that were going to be sent on this mission, but he was going to go over their files again regardless. He was also thinking of requesting to tag along, just in case.

When everyone stood to leave McKay requested that Sheppard come with him to the labs as there were some things that he could activate while they waited around for the final preparations to take place. Sheppard agreed to help out, and while his demeanour didn't outwardly change Thompkins sensed a little satisfaction as the two men headed out together, heads bowed in conversation.

* * * * * * * * *

Sheppard watched McKay out of the corner of his eye, poking at the random objects on McKay's desk and waiting to be told what to do. Sure, he could be working on those reports he was supposed to have finished for Weir last week…and the week before. And yeah, maybe he should have been present for that training session that was taking place down at the range, but Lorne was perfectly capable of handling that alone. And there was that departure interview with Kinnersly, the soldier he was sending back to Earth because of his inability to play nicely with the scientists, but really, why would he waste his time doing that?

No, it was much more productive for him to be McKay's slave for an afternoon. Besides, McKay had requested his presence, and it was much easier to watch his friend this way than following him from a distance.

"Here, activate this, would you?" It was more of a demand than a question, but since it held more curiosity than bossiness Sheppard complied without comment. He picked up the plate like device and concentrated on thinking it _on_. It did nothing, so he tried again.

"I've got nothing."

"Really?"

"Do you see it lighting up and trying to vaporize us all?" Rodney turned away from the screen he was watching, the one that had wires travelling from it to the device in Sheppard's hands.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's not meant to…actually, maybe you should put it down."

"Look, McKay-" he started, but was cut off.

"No, seriously, put it down." Rodney ordered and he complied hastily by gently placing it on the counter and then quickly pulling his hands away. He wondered if he should maybe leave the room as well, in case his presence accidentally activated the suddenly dangerous device. Then he looked at his friend only to see the Canadian grinning that closed mouthed grin when he thought he was being clever.

"Very funny, Rodney."

"I thought so. Did you seriously think I'd ask you to activate something I thought would vaporize you? Your hair maybe, but you?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?" The smug grin turned into a scowl and the scientist unhooked the few wires attached to the plate before looking around for his next object of study. After a few minutes of silence John grew bored once again and began poking around some more.

"Would you stop, already? Seriously, I can't imagine how your mother felt taking you shopping as a kid. I swear it's ingrained in your being to misunderstand the concept of 'don't touch.'"

"I was the perfect child and my mother loved me."

"Well, I'll believe the second part."

"Why are we in here studying these devices, anyway? Shouldn't you be preparing for the mission tomorrow or something?"

"Hmmm?" Rodney asked, distracted before his hearing caught up with his overworking brain. "No. My people have been prepared for tomorrow's mission since yesterday afternoon, and Kwong's making sure that everything is being loaded onto the Manta properly. I've already submitted an updated list of gate recommendations to Weir, so that should keep her reading for the next week or so. I've debriefed everyone staying here, and reviewed their assignments to make sure there weren't any critical experiments while Zelenka and I are gone. Sauder is perfectly capable of holding down the fort while we're away, but there's no reason to test that theory unless we have to," he waved his hand around absently in the air and Sheppard blinked at him.

"Jeeze McKay, did you get any sleep last night?"

"Of course I did."

"How much?"

"Plenty. Here," he shoved a pencil like object into John's hand. John looked at it and thought _on_ a few times before trying to hand it back.

"This doesn't seem to work either," and Rodney looked at him a little strangely.

"That's the pen I stole from your desk last week." Sheppard looked back at the metallic object and frowned as he pocketed it.

"Stop trying to change the subject," he snapped, looking back at the scientist who was still grinning at John's expense.

"I'm sorry, we had a subject in there somewhere?"

"How much sleep did you get last night?"

"I distinctly remember telling you I got plenty."

"What, plenty of minutes, plenty of seconds?"

"Why the sudden interest in my horizontal habits?"

"Why the constant attempts to avoid answering my question?"

"I'm not avoiding your question, I've answered it twice now."

"Rodney…"

"Colonel, I'm getting plenty of sleep. Thank you for asking," he huffed and then moved abruptly from his stool to the other side of the table where he began wrestling an oddly rounded object the size of an old school computer monitor onto the table. John watched him, not offering to help and not being asked, though he did receive a glare for his lack of effort. He smiled sweetly in return.

Why was he asking about Rodney's sleeping habits? Between their off-world missions and his commitments to Atlantis, John knew he kept odd hours. He had thrown an exercise routine into the scientist's schedule to help moderate his sleeping habits, but even that hadn't helped significantly. Maybe it was the light bruises beneath his eyes, or the extra cups of coffee he drank during the meals they shared, but McKay just looked tired and John was beginning to wonder how much time he spent in his quarters trying to get those four or five hours of sleep every night.

Rodney clearly wasn't ready to talk about whatever was causing his insomnia, but John would have bet a month's pay it had more to do with his entrapment on the bottom of the ocean and Griffin's sacrifice, than the current investigation. McKay seemed to tolerate the inconvenience of the investigation, and answered Strat's questions with a level of patience that had only ended when Zelenka finally asked Carson when he was going to take the medication away.

"So, have you and Thompkins managed to grab that drink yet?" He inquired and Rodney snorted again. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

"What is with you and all the questions about Major Thompkins?"

"I'm just curious. It's not everyday I get to meet someone you knew before Atlantis who's actually your friend."

"Please. We have a healthy respect for each other, but I'm not sure I would classify it as a friendship. More like a relationship built on forced socialization."

"Yet you still choose to drink with him."

"He skipped out on the bill the last time I saw him, you bet your ass I want that drink he owes me. Personally I think making him wade into Atlantis' black market to find the beverages will be worth the entire experience alone."

"He seems like a pretty prepared guy, he probably already has a stash in his quarters."

"Probably," Rodney shrugged. "Hey, did I thank you yet for breaking my fall the other day?" Sheppard felt his eyebrows raise of their own volition at the abrupt change of subject.

"Yeah, I got that when you threatened to kill me right after."

"Oh, right, I forgot about that, what with the adrenalin and all."

"You feeling okay?"

"It was just a few bruises. It gets uncomfortable to sit in a chair for longer than fifteen minutes, but since I'm generally all over the place it hasn't been a problem yet. You?"

"I'm fine," he straightened his shoulders and puffed his chest out a bit to make his point. Actually, he was a bit sore, but a few hot showers had helped out in that area and he barely noticed the aches anymore. Rodney didn't seem overly interested in his answer, though, as he was suddenly snapping his fingers and looking around for…aha, his tools. He began to gently pry something off the computer screen thing. He watched the scientist work for a few more minutes.

"But seriously," he interrupted Rodney's work again. "You feeling okay?"

"I thought we established that I was bruised but that my manliness has allowed me to stoically work through it."

"I'm not talking about the fall. I've noticed that you've seemed a bit tense lately, ever since that thing with the puddle jumper and the sinking."

"I'm fine," Rodney answered, but the clipped response told John that this was a conversation that Rodney didn't want to have. He studied his friend's face and wondered if he should push for more of a response from the normally boisterous Canadian.

"Of course you are, because things like that never really bother anybody. Hell, it's practically the equivalent of having an ice cream at the park, easily brushed aside and forgotten about."

"If you're trying to make some kind of point-"

"All I'm saying is that if you need to _talk_ about it," and his voice absolutely did not waver at the notion of talking about emotions "then I'm around. Or we could just grab a beer or something some time, and talk about nothing, cause that would be fine to…" Good god, if he wasn't secure in the knowledge that he was a cool, collected military leader then he might have thought he'd just come off as sounding a bit stupid. Rodney looked up from what he was doing and stared at John, as though trying to decipher what he was saying, before just nodding and going back to his work.

They sat there for a few more minutes of silence.

"If you had something to do you should probably get to it now, I don't need your help anymore," Rodney suddenly announced.

"Okay then. Your welcome and all that" he found himself drawling and smiled winningly when Rodney looked up, his blue eyes as sharp as always.

"Yes, thank you for your help." Well, it looked like that was that. John slid off his stool and moved to the door, waving to the other end of the lab where Dr. Sauder sat hunched over something he couldn't see. She didn't look his way at all.

"Colonel," Rodney called out just as he reached the door and he pivoted on the spot, looking back in question. "Thank you," he said, looking uncomfortable for a moment before meeting his eyes to try and convey his sincerity.

"Anytime. And McKay, get some sleep tonight, okay? Because I know you're not going to be sleeping at all for the four days we're at that station."

"Yes sir," he replied, rolling his eyes at him and Sheppard tossed off a sloppy salute before heading out into the corridor. Well, Rodney might not be ready to talk to anyone about how he was feeling yet, but he rarely was. Sheppard could relate to that, but at least now Rodney knew that he could talk to him if he needed to, because he wasn't sure if his friend realized that that had always been an option.

* * * * * * * * * *


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

The morning light spilled through the windows in the gate room casting long bright stripes across people and equipment alike. It was early enough that the day crew (or at least those that worked by a scheduled shift) were just sitting down to take over their duties, but late enough that Carson had already had plenty of time to snatch a quick brekie and eat it out on the balcony. It was a lovely morning after all, and his mother had always told him that he needed to take more time to appreciate the finer things in life. It was just a shame it was cut a tad short as Elizabeth had asked him to come to the meeting a few minutes earlier today. No matter, it was still a glorious morning.

"And a good morning to you Colonel Sheppard," he smiled brightly as the dark haired man rounded the corner and fell into step beside him.

"Morning Carson," he drawled, glancing at him with a quirked eyebrow. "You're awfully chipper today." He sounded suspicious.

"And there's no reason to be in any other mood with that sun shining away like that."

"Maybe you could spare some of that positive cheer for my marines, because after this morning's run with Ronon they're going to need it." Carson snorted, sympathy for the brave men and women rising quickly within him and he made a mental note to have the heating and cooling packs easily accessible for the rest of the day. Poor buggers.

When they stepped into the briefing room the small smile he had been wearing disappeared quickly under the serious weight in the air. His eyes immediately zoned in on Elizabeth, who was sitting in her seat at the round table. She looked tired, a slight discoloration under her eyes that spoke of a few hours of missed sleep, and her shoulders were hunched. The moment she saw them, however, the tiredness seemed to disappear and the slouch became non-existent as she stood from her seat to greet them.

Her smile was a little weak.

"Good morning gentlemen, thank you for coming in earlier today, I apologize if it disrupted your morning." She was always trying to be so diplomatically correct and Carson honestly had no idea where she came up with the energy for it. He smiled warmly at her.

"Not at all," he assured her as he placed his handheld computer and paper notes on the table, effectively selecting his seat for the day.

"Besides, that's what we're here for," Sheppard remarked. "You say how high and all that…" He trailed off and looked at her expectantly, not needing to deposit any of his own notes as he rarely carried them with him. Carson noted how the American's gaze drifted to the table, curiosity ignited as he waited for Dr. Weir to tell them exactly why it is that they were there. Carson looked to where Sheppard had glanced moments before and his gaze fell upon a file folder, the red 'CLASSIFIED' stamp was partially obscured by Elizabeth's hand as she covered it almost protectively. She nodded at the comment.

"There is no easy way for me to begin this meeting, but I am going to start by formally informing you that what we are about to discuss is under the strictest confidence." Sheppard stood a bit taller and Carson found himself following suit as he once again glanced at the folder. He did not think he was going to like this.

"Understood," Sheppard responded, not sounding happy. Did he have an inkling of what this was about? Elizabeth picked up the file, gripping it a little tighter than was necessary.

"In 2000, Dr. McKay was abducted from a scientific conference in Bejing, China. Upon his…rescue," she paused a moment, "it was decided that the entire situation would be blacklisted and strictly classified to a need to know only basis."

"And let me guess, _nobody_ needed to know," there was a coldness in Sheppard's tone that sent shivers across Carson's shoulders. Elizabeth sighed.

"Apparently. John, you are already partially aware of this from our meeting with Rodney and Dr. Strat, but now both yourself and Carson need to be fully appraised of the situation."

"Of the situation?" Carson asked, frowning. "What exactly about this situation had it classified in the first place? If we need to know now then we should have known when we were initially placed in charge of this mission."

"There isn't anything we can do about that initial decision," the corner of her mouth turned down slightly. "All we can do now is learn what we must, and help with it in anyway we can."

"Is there anything in that file," Sheppard nodded in distaste at the offending object, "that I need to know from a security stand point?"

"This isn't a situation that is up for debate John. Any declassified information pertaining to the well being of a member of Atlantis or the city itself needs to be acknowledged." She didn't sound very happy about that.

"I understand that Carson has to read it," Sheppard stated and Carson flinched slightly, even though the tone was far from accusing. His breakfast began to form a lump in his stomach as he stared at the file, scenario after scenario began leaping into his mind of what could have happened to his friend that he had no idea about. Things that had been healed over and hidden, things that Carson knew he didn't want to know and yet had to because it was his duty as a physician… "but if there is nothing in there that I have to know, from a security standpoint, then I am going to respectfully decline my right to read it."

"It doesn't work like that John. You have to read it."

"Elizabeth, this is Rodney we're talking about here. He hasn't mentioned this to us, ever, and I am not going to rip into his privacy like that because we have been given orders to. You and Carson have to, I understand that, but if I don't, then I am not going to. Not until he gives me express permission." Elizabeth's eyes narrowed, guilt and frustration apparent in her stance as she stared down the Colonel. Carson looked back and forth between the two and he could feel a headache coming on from the indecision of who to side with. As a friend he whole heartedly agreed with John, but as the leader he knew what Elizabeth was saying and nothing about this situation was going to end well. And that's when Elizabeth's eyes suddenly broke away from the Colonel to stare over his shoulder and Carson heard the door slide quietly open; of all the times for someone to be early to a meeting. He turned around to see who it was, wondering when his wonderful morning had turned to such dirt.

* * * * * * * * *

"Good morning Rodney," Elizabeth smiled at him as soon as she noticed his presence and the two men around her jerked sharply to nod at him as well. He walked in to find Carson, Sheppard and Dr. Weir standing around her desk, and his eyes were automatically drawn to the folder she had clutched in her hands. They looked guilty as hell, and he found his eyes narrowing suspiciously before he caught a glimpse of the crossed-out confidentiality stamp on the folders front. So, it looked like they were finally being updated on his big, secret past. He stared at it a moment, then at Elizabeth who's eyes looked a bit worried, a bit weary, then at the unreadable Sheppard and slightly flustered Scotsman. Great, this was just how he wanted to start the third hour of his day. Not knowing how to react to the situation he panicked a moment, standing unreasonably still as he tried to figure out what to do.

Should he confront them about reading his file? He knew they'd get it eventually, what with their status in Atlantis and the fact that some of the information in the file might be pertinent to a future mission. How he hadn't quite figured out yet, but it was a reasonable excuse. Should he be upset that they had done so without telling him? Without asking him if he minded that they dug into his past? Should he be relieved that it was finally out in the open and, if he wanted to, he could finally speak freely about what had happened to him and, for once, maybe receive a little comfort? Maybe people wouldn't be so quick to judge his phobia of small places or why he was always so worried about having enough food.

Thoughts and scenarios flashed through his mind and for a moment he was lost, before he fell back on one of his most trusted defense mechanisms and decided that he would pretend he didn't know what was going on. He would pretend that the file in her hand was just some random file and that they hadn't been having a secret little meeting about him before he and the rest of the people scheduled for this final briefing showed up. With that plan in mind he tore his gaze away from the file again and moved quickly to his seat.

"Morning, morning," he waved at them absently and began setting up his computer as he always did, taking a drink from his hot coffee as he did so. Silence stretched on for a moment as they tried to catch up with the fact that he was going to completely ignore what they all knew had been going on. Then they seemed to move as one, taking seats around the table and organizing their own notes. Sheppard sat beside him and Beckett sat across, his hand nervously twirling his pen around as he tried to appear unruffled and failed at it miserably.

"So," Carson cleared his throat a bit, "I suppose you have the monsters all bundled away for transport to my quarters." For a very brief moment Rodney considered retracting his request that Carson watch Max and Ernie before quashing the idea. It wasn't Carson's fault that he had been given the file without Rodney knowing, nor was it Sheppard's or Weir's and there was no reason for him to be feeling hurt or slightly betrayed in the least. After all, he went through people's personnel files on a regular basis; it was a part of his job. If he decided not to trust Carson with his cats he would be hitting the man below the belt.

"You're trusting Bert and Ernie to Carson?" Sheppard drawled with a smirk on his face. Rodney glared at him hard, wishing his hair would spontaneously ignite.

"Of course. I've spent the last two days starving _Max _and Ernie and I sharpened their claws this morning. They're practically prowling for attention." Carson actually looked more relieved at hearing that than he should have, especially as he apparently disliked the cats so much. As an after thought he reached into his pocket and pulled out Cadross' small coin-like unit and slid it across the table. "One photonic assistant, as per our agreement. As far as I'm aware that person from the Deadalus has finally completed all their tests on him, so there's no reason they should be asking to see him again," he declared.

"Right, thanks. He's going to be right useful."

"Useful? Come on Doc, I'm sure you could find more interesting things to have Cadross do than be 'useful'" Sheppard drawled from his place beside Rodney. Their conversation was interrupted though, as Dr.'s Zelenka, Keagan, Mills and Kwong walked in, shortly followed by Teyla, Ronon, Thompkins, Sergeant Michaels, Sergeant Rafat and Dr. Strat. Finally, the meeting could get underway and Rodney could get some real work done.

* * * * * * * * *

John Sheppard, Lieutenant Colonel of the United States Air Force and current commander of Atlantis's military contingent in the Pegasus galaxy, sat stoically in his corner of the main cafeteria. He sat stoically, because admitting to himself that he probably looked a little frustrated, maybe a bit angry, perhaps slightly guilty and definitely a whole lot of indecisive just would not work. He was the leader of Atlantis's defence after all, and sitting around projecting what he was feeling did not create the collected and controlled confidence that a leader needed to inspire. Therefore he was sitting stoically and projecting confidence.

The meeting earlier that morning had gone off as well as he'd expected. Everyone had been professional, last minute concerns and changes had been made. Dr. Strat had been added to the list of people traveling to the station with the understanding that he was to either observe or do as Rodney said and nothing more. It wasn't an ideal decision, but Elizabeth had decided that keeping the investigator happy was probably the best route to take. On a happier note, Rodney's team of scientists hadn't appeared too pleased by that decision and, not being leaders within the community, had not been above glaring in annoyance at Strat. Actually, neither had Ronon or Rodney, but he assumed Ronon's disagreement had more to do with the extra mouth to feed, which diminished his chances at getting a third serving.

So the meeting had been an overall success, if you could dismiss the nervous glances Carson tossed Rodney's way every three minutes and the way Elizabeth had sat a little straighter then was normal for the entire meeting. She had asked them to join her before the meeting began to discuss a private 'situation.' If John had thought the meeting was to inform them that the classified file on McKay had been given to her with orders to both read it and ensure that they looked at it, well, he would have shown up anyway. He would have simply been better prepared to deal with it.

Of course Rodney had walked in early, because while he was never late (without good reason) he was very rarely early. And, of course, the self-proclaimed genius had taken one look at the three of them huddled around together and seemed to understand exactly what was going on before he'd even fully stopped walking. He'd then gone through what Sheppard classified as an MSFO, a mini-silent freak-out, the kind where a million and one thoughts and scenario's traveled through his mind within the span of two seconds and he acted on a decision without even blinking. Sheppard both loved and hated MSFO's, because in a time of crisis they almost always led to a brilliant solution, but in regular everyday actions they generally meant heavy emotional playoff's that were difficult to follow. Crises he knew how to deal with; emotions, not so much.

This case was a classic example of a situation he wasn't quite sure how to deal with, but what he did know was that he couldn't deal with it the same way Rodney seemed to want to. The Canadian had taken his two seconds to run his brain in hyper-detailed circles before coming to the somewhat predictable conclusion of ignoring the entire situation. Yep, he had sat down in his seat, waving his arms and pretending to prepare his notes as though nothing were wrong. And, damn it, if that wasn't the most frustrating thing ever. Leave it to the man who always wanted to complain or talk about _anything_ under the sun that was remotely interesting or held the possibility of a good argument and he was there, unless it was a situation that actually merited talking about.

So they had sat through the meeting and John pretended that Rodney wasn't upset with them and that they hadn't snuck behind his back about something that should have involved all four of them. Then, once the meeting had broken up and everyone was leaving Elizabeth had waited until Rodney had rushed off, babbling happily to Zelenka, before picking up the file and handing it to John as he walked by her to the door. He'd taken it without a word and now he was here, sitting stoically and wishing his coffee was just a little warmer.

"Hey," a tray was placed across the table from him and was followed by the body that went with the greeting.

"Hey," he responded, eyeing the plate and wondering if there was anything on there he could steal. Then he looked at Ronon, whose keen eyes were watching him, waiting for him to make a move and he decided that if he was hungry he should get his own plate. It was a self-preservation thing. They sat in silence a few minutes as Ronon ingested the pile of eggs before moving on to the fruit salad that had been piled on top of toast, which was now soggy.

"Should you be carrying that around here with you?" he asked, nodding at the file that sat just to the right of Sheppard's' coffee mug, the bold red stamp on the cover standing out like a beacon. It may have been de-classified, but it was still on a strictly need to know basis and he really shouldn't have it sitting in the open like this, but he was still too…stoic to care.

"Uh, yeah." He replied instead, as though it were perfectly normal and was unsurprised when Ronon rolled his eyes, a bad habit he seemed to have picked up from Rodney…but John could have had something to do with it as well.

"Is that why McKay's mad at you?" he asked around a mouthful of sausage patties

"What? McKay's not mad at me."

"Not _just_ you."

"He's not mad at me at all. He's mad at a situation that I happen to have something to do with, but he'll come around when he's had time to cool off."

"Probably."

"Probably _not_!" Beckett exclaimed as he all but collapsed in the seat next to Sheppard. "Do ye not remember this friend of ours called Rodney? He never _gets_ time to cool off, so there's no telling how long he'll be angry with us."

"Why exactly is he mad at you again?" Ronon asked, quirking an eyebrow at the geneticist.

"He walked in on-" Sheppard quickly smacked Beckett on the arm, cutting him off mid-sentence and then gave a rather strained smile.

"Ronon doesn't know the _situation_ that has Rodney mad at us Carson; he's trying to trick you into telling him."

"Oh," the doctor looked at the big man across from him as comprehension dawned. "Ye know, you're quite good at that."

"Thank you," Ronon grunted, looking a bit put out that Sheppard had cut the doctor off. "Are you going to tell me what's going on with McKay this time?"

"I don't know myself yet," Carson replied, picking up his toast.

"Sorry, Ronon. This is one of those "he'll tell you when he's ready" situations that we can't elaborate on," Sheppard tried to explain, and anger at the entire thing began to churn his stomach again.

"So you've read it then?" Carson nodded at the folder.

"Nope."

"Right." They all sat in silence, and Sheppard fingered the folder absently while sipping his coffee. Ronon seemed to accept their explanations, for now at least, and had resumed eating. Carson was digging around in his lab coat for something and accidentally elbowed John in the side with his efforts.

"Sorry, sorry. I just remembered that I need to take these with food," he explained as he pulled out little disposable medicinal packages. He popped two bright orange pills and promptly swallowed them with the aid of his apple juice.

"You okay there, doctor?"

"Oh yeah, just fine. I'm a mite allergic to cat hair and, seeing as I'll be watching the beasts for the next few days, I want to avoid the unpleasantness that comes with it."

"You're a good man, Carson." Sheppard grinned.

"Aye, I'm aware," he grinned back. He was distracted as a call came over the radio for him. "Beckett here," he responded as he picked up his juice, only to freeze with it halfway to his lips. A moment later he quickly put it back down and jumped to his feet.

"I'll be right there," he said sharply and looked quickly to Sheppard and Ronon. "There's been an accident in the submersible bay. Rodney's in the infirmary again," he explained quickly and then he was striding out of the room. Sheppard and Ronon were quick to follow and walked through the infirmary doors not ten seconds after the chief of medicine. He quickly spotted his friend and headed right over to the bed he was stationed at, frowning as he looked at the man.

"You look like a drowned rat."

"I'm fine Colonel, thank you for asking." Rodney snapped out between chattering teeth before pulling the large towel that had been draped over his shoulders closer. John frowned as he looked him over. The man was soaked through from head to boots. His hair was sticking out in odd angles from being quickly rubbed with a towel. His grey uniform looked black as it clung to him and there was a continuous stream of water dripping from his feet. He was shivering, heavily.

"Why's he not been taken out of his clothes yet?" Carson demanded as he smoothly took the place of the attending, pushed Rodney's shaking hands out of the way and began undoing the zipper of his jacket for him.

"He arrived here five seconds before you did, Doctor," the attending responded quickly as he bent down to start removing one of Rodney's boots and a nurse appeared on the other side of the bed with a large pile of warm looking blankets.

"I am perfectly capable of undressing myself, thank you," Rodney declared and tried to push Beckett's hands out of the way.

"Let us handle it Rodney, and you focus on telling us what happened." Beckett pushed the scientist's hands out of the way again by reaching around to peel off his jacket. Rodney rolled his eyes even as he helped to shrug out of the material. The tightness in Sheppard's gut unclenched at the action and Rodney looked over at him as Beckett started at his shirt and the nurse looked like she was going for his pants.

"Do you mind? This isn't a peep show."

"I never realized you were so shy, Rodney," Sheppard drawled even as he turned his back to the group, looking expectantly at Ronon until he did the same. "So what happened?"

"Keagan and I were examining the mechanical scanning platform that sits at the end of the overhanging half-bridge in the bay. Hey! Do you mind! That's attached you know!" No, Sheppard did not want to know, but he did know about the platform Rodney was talking about. It sat in the center of the docks; its rotating base was capable of rising to a height of ten meters. There was a platform that jutted out from the top of it that could adjust its length to ten meters as well. Apparently it was supposed to extend to a point over top of the vehicles to perform a maintenance scan. They hadn't figured out how to make it work yet.

"That platform has energy safety railings."

"Yes Colonel, it does, but as it seems to be the norm lately the railing decided it didn't want to appear for me when I was so diligently trying to fix the scanner. Keagan stumbled when we were getting up from examining the main console and then I reached out to the railing to steady us and splash. If I didn't know any better, I'd think Atlantis was trying to tell me something."

"Okay, lie back then and we'll get the rest of these blankets around you."

"Right, thanks. You can look now," he informed them and Sheppard turned to find his friend, dressed in the burgundy hospital scrubs, wrapped tightly in a number of blankets. His cheeks were still rosy but he was no longer pale. His shivering seemed to be coming under control. He looked at Carson. "I was in the water a minute at the most. I think my muscles froze from the shock of it so it took me a few seconds to get my bearings and start swimming properly." He was grinning proudly and Carson merely nodded as he checked his heart rate and blood pressure.

"So this Keagan guy pushed you?" Ronon asked, folding his arms menacingly across his chest and Rodney looked over and blinked at him.

"Does nobody listen to the words that actually come out of my mouth? He did not push me, he stumbled into me. It's not all that surprising really, I mean, finding people intelligent enough to work here is challenging in its self, but expecting them to have balance and dexterity that extends beyond their hands and brain is a little much. Not everyone is as able bodied as myself you know."

"Isn't Lohen from linguistics a national gymnast?" Sheppard asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well obviously there are going to be a few exceptions, Colonel. Are we done here yet Carson, I need to get back to work."

"Nay, we are not done here, Rodney. Your systems just suffered a huge shock."

"Please, it's not like I was sitting in it for hours on end," he exclaimed, avoiding eye contact. There was a moment of silence as Carson stared at Rodney with worry and John clenched his hands into fists before Rodney visibly shook off whatever memory had surfaced and glared in annoyance at the physician. "A few seconds in frigid water is hardly hypothermia inducing and I feel better already."

"Aye, well I don't. You're not scheduled to leave for another three hours yet, so you're going to sit here for another hour and rest before I let you rush back to terrorizing your fellow scientists."

"You can't do that! I have a lot of work to do before we head out!"

"Yes apparently, which is why you were on that scanning platform in the first place hmmm, making sure everything was ready for this mission."

"Of course I-"

"You were playin' around, Rodney. I know perfectly well that yer just twiddling your thumbs as you wait for the launch, so stop arguing, or I'll give you something to argue about." Rodney opened his mouth to argue and pointed menacingly at Carson, and then closed his mouth, and then opened it again before huffing and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Fine. One hour, but if you don't clear me for this mission…" he let the threat hang in the air and Carson, rolling his eyes rather dramatically, looked anything but intimidated.

"I just want ye te rest Rodney, I'll let you go on your mission."

"Besides, we wouldn't leave without you, McKay," Sheppard helped to mollify the agitated scientist before turning to leave. He heard Rodney demanding that someone bring him a laptop before he was out the door, stopping at his quarters before heading to the submersible bay. Despite the fact that he couldn't hear him, he knew that Ronon was right behind him. Rodney would be okay in the infirmary with Beckett watching over him. Now he strolled through the control room and into the bay itself to see activity going on as usual. It was only a moment before Thompkins appeared by his side.

"How is he?"

"He'll be fine. He's a tough guy." Sheppard responded.

"Yeah, I know," Thompkins said knowingly and John grit his teeth in irritation. God, this man was frustrating! Waltzing in here and acting like he understood everything about McKay and, apparently, having a basis to feel that way. John just didn't like being purposely left out of the loop. He thought about the folder sitting in a locked drawer in his quarters. He was pretty certain that it had all the explanations he wanted, but beyond that instinct he had no idea what it contained. They hadn't gotten past Elizabeth's speech about discretion and classification and not letting emotions judge one's actions before handing it over and having Rodney walk in. He could be in the loop again if he wanted.

"Have you figured out what happened yet?" He asked, instead of all the more personal questions he was itching to fire off.

"It appears to be a malfunction in the machinery. Dr. Keagan was shaken up by the incident but he's gone back to work now. He said that he'd tripped and accidentally crashed into McKay and throwing him off balance and, therefore, over the edge. They were only four meters above the water at the time so I really can't say it was a malicious life threatening act."

"Word has it that Keagan's been causing some trouble in the labs. He and McKay have had a couple fights," Ronon announced.

"What kind of fights?"

"Ones where McKay is angry and Keagan is resentful."

"Have you seen any of these?" Thompkins asked.

"A few," Ronon replied with a shrug.

"Did any of them seem serious?"

"Nah, just typical. But I wasn't watching for a threat, so I may have missed it."

"They were fighting and you weren't watching for a threat?" Thompkins frowned at the implication.

"Geek fighting is kind of a sport around here, Major." Sheppard tried to explain but Thompkins didn't appear to get it. "It's entertaining. Have you ever listened to people with an encyclopedic amount of knowledge buried in their brains duke it out with words?"

"It's pretty funny," Ronon conceded.

"I'd sell tickets but then the sport would be removed from its natural environment." Sheppard grinned.

"I see," Thompkins responded and turned his gaze out to the submersible bay. Sheppard and Ronon shared a quick amused look, because it was apparent that the Major did not see. Ha, his loss.

"We'll keep a closer eye on Keagan just in case. Other than that we're no closer to finding out who the threat is." The frustration was clear in his voice and he could see it in the other two men around him. They headed off to the Manta to do a last check on the gear Sheppard wanted there, but it wasn't long after that John heard McKay's voice carrying loudly through the submersible bay. He looked at his watch, and then tapped his radio.

"Beckett?"

"Yeah?"

"It's only been half an hour, are you aware that you've lost a patient?"

"Aye, I'm aware Colonel."

"Do you…want him back?"

"No, that won't be necessary, Colonel. He left under my orders." This was code for 'I threw him out for being an annoying bastard.' Sheppard grinned widely. Rodney would be just fine.

"Right, thanks Doc." He turned from the front of the Manta just in time to see Rodney stroll into the ship with barely a hesitation, and then scowled at him.

"What are you smirking at? Are you brain damaged? We have work to do."

Yes, they did.

* * * * * * * * * *


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

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**Atlantis, Present Day**

"If I were a less patient man, I would throttle you just to stop wasting our air supply!" McKay snapped in irritation as he stomped gracelessly out of science stations main lab/command center.

"You have to understand what the word 'patient' entails before you go tossing it around like that McKay," Colonel Sheppard called after the retreating scientist before he turned back to Dr. Zelenka, a grin tugging at his lips. The Czech doctor, his hair slightly more on end than usual, merely stared at the Colonel before shaking his head and returning to his computer, muttering something that was too quiet for Sergeant Rafat to hear from her place a few meters away. "What?" Her commanding officer asked, apparently not hearing what the scientist had said either, and Dr. Zelenka sighed.

"You heard me, Colonel," the scientist said, looking over at Sheppard who just continued grinning in the face of the man's ire.

"Oh, come on, Radek, I wasn't bugging him that much. Besides, he needed the distraction," Sheppard responded as he casually leaned his hip against the console closest to him and let his gaze travel quickly around the room. His eyes lingered a moment on each individual, taking quick assessment of their status. Rafat quickly averted her gaze, her interest appeared to lay on the scientist she was in charge of babysitting and not on the conversation taking place. She doubted Sheppard bought her act, but she knew the man wasn't going to call her on it because a) it was impossible not to overhear any conversation that took place in this room if you were paying attention and b) Colonel Sheppard was a man who usually didn't give a rat's ass who heard his conversations or, more accurately, his arguments with McKay.

"Is true he needs distraction, but perhaps next time you can simply challenge him to game of Parcheesi and save the science staff from the subsequent ranting and raving."

"Well, I could, but it doesn't have the same affect."

"So you believe his being even more angry with you will help him feel better? Is weak hypothesis, I think," Zelenka pushed his glasses up his nose. Sheppard glanced around the room casually before moving closer to Zelenka and dropping his voice to a lower volume. Sergeant Rafat shamelessly eaves dropped, hoping to hear as much of this conversation as possible. She was lucky she had been born with such excellent hearing.

"You think he was angry with me already?" the Colonel asked quietly, trying and failing to sound casual as he leaned closer to the doctor. Zelenka spared him an irritated glance.

"Please, don't insult my intelligence, Colonel. Rodney is my friend as well."

"It's just, I didn't think it was that obvious," Sheppard muttered, looking irritated by the thought.

"It is not," Zelenka stated and Sheppard stared at him for a full minute before deciding that the man wasn't going to comment further.

"I haven't seen him much these last few days," he shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

"That is because he is avoiding you as much as you are avoiding him," was the quiet response, and Rafat frowned. It hadn't appeared as though they were avoiding each other. She contemplated how she could move closer to hear their quiet tones more easily without drawing attention to herself when her charge, Dr. Mills, called for her attention. The doctor was on his knees and immersed to his waist in the wall, almost stretching as he tried to reach as far into the maintenance area as he could without actually crawling completely inside. It had only been ten minutes since she had had the dubious pleasure of watching while both Mills' and McKay's rear ends waggled in the air together as they had crammed themselves into the opening to get to whatever it was that they were working on. What she wouldn't have given for a camera at that point.

Now, however, it seemed that Dr. Mills didn't want to leave his new hidey hole as his somewhat muffled voice called out to her.

"Sergeant? Sergeant? I could use an extra set of hands in here, and could you bring four of the orange wired connectors with you, please? Sergeant?" She looked over at Sheppard, whose head was bent as he spoke with Zelenka before quickly removing her weapon and resting it on the floor to her right. It figures Mills would pick this precise moment to need her help.

"Sure thing, Doc. Just give me a second." She went to the bag of tools on his left side and pulled out the requested connectors before dropping to her knees and pressing in beside him. Fortunately, it wasn't that tight of a squeeze and she'd helped the scientists out enough to not feel odd about the proximity. Lord knows she'd gotten over any shyness in boot camp anyway.

"Ah, thank you Sergeant. Now, if you could hold this right there…" he began mumbling under his breath as he shifted things back and forth and back again and checking his small computer monitor. Unfortunately, between his movements and the muffled confines of the small space, she couldn't hear the conversation taking place in the main room.

It was no secret that anything involving Colonel Sheppard and/or Dr. McKay was of great interest to almost every individual within the city. She'd like to think it was because the expedition just wanted to make sure they were healthy, happy and prepared to save everyone's lives again when the next emergency threatened Atlantis, but the truth was that the majority of people kept tabs on them simply for entertainment purposes. At least she could honestly say she had a healthy interest in keeping an eye on them because they deserved any extra help they could get. Not everyone in Atlantis felt that way, but she'd been involved in her fair share of situations with both men and she respected them enough to care.

She hadn't realized the two were currently avoiding each other, but it was obvious to her, and everyone else on this little mission, that something was tense between them. The conversation taking place outside was the first chance she had had to find any answers, but, as was usual with these men, she knew she would never have the full picture.

One thing was for sure, and that was that McKay was tense to the point of being even more irritable than usual, and the longer they had been on this science station the more she noticed it. He was trying to control himself, perhaps to hide how he was feeling, but he wasn't doing a very good job and she'd noticed the concerned glances his teammates had been sending his way whenever his back was turned. She wasn't a genius, but she was far from dumb and she knew that his stress was created from any number of the things that were taking place in his continuously busy life. Seeing as he didn't seem to care too much for Strat or Thompkins presence she had assumed the rest of his tenseness came from dealing with his near death in the puddle jumper the previous month.

She had been in Atlantis for over a year and a half now, in fact she was one of a contingent of about twenty soldiers from various countries that had remained in Atlantis for longer then their duty rotation, having requested to stay. She didn't have much waiting for her back on Earth and, frankly, she considered Atlantis to be home now, despite its dangers. Having been around for so long now they had been given an opportunity to grow with the place, and to understand some fundamentals that most of the soldiers who transferred between this posting and others pertaining to the Stargate program didn't understand. These 'fundamentals' being the scientists, and within these scientists there were a few that garnered special attention. Dr. Rodney McKay garnered the most special attention of all.

Oh, it had taken a while for her to understand this, and it had also taken the transferring of stories from the soldiers who had been posted before her arrival to help her understand, but she had learned. When she had first met McKay she couldn't stand him. She saw him coming down a corridor and she just couldn't help grinding her teeth. He would rant and rave about brainless grunts, ordering them about without batting an eye and never once thanking them for their help or protection. How could anybody stand that? He obviously didn't care for them in the least, it had felt as though they were practically subhuman in his eyes.

Once, after a particularly long afternoon at an abandoned ancient outpost off world, she'd even gone so far as to question Colonel Sheppard, off the record, about why he put up with the arrogance. How could he stand the constant complaining and belittlement? The Colonel had looked at her, then looked across the stone courtyard to the Canadian, where he was busy on his hands and knees digging around for something in the wall, and then back at her, and he'd smiled. It hadn't been a warm smile, though it appeared friendly enough, and it hadn't reached his eyes, which had been more tired than usual.

"Sergeant," he'd said with false cheer, "you haven't been paying enough attention."

"Colonel! Where's that powerbar you promised me? Are you trying to send me into a hypoglycaemic reaction? As if I don't have enough to worry about!" McKay had interrupted, yelling across the area, much louder than necessary since they were no more than fifteen meters away. She noticed her commanding officer had the powerbar in question in his hand, and without ceremony he pulled back his arm and sent the energy snack sailing through the air to hit the scientist in the back with perfect accuracy, and then grinned for real at the curses that were sent their way. He looked back at her, his smile slipping and expression unreadable, and then simply walked off to join the man in question.

She'd paid more attention after that, and it hadn't taken long to notice the little things. The things that McKay's abrasive personality overshadowed. Like how he would typically do everything he asked others to do and then some despite how dirty or tedious it sometimes was, only his complaining made it easy to ignore his actions. How he would casually hand over his canteen when a fellow scientist became carried away and drank his supply too fast. He tended to believe he was right about everything, but he always _listened_ to what other people said to him, even if he then immediately dismissed their ideas. If they said something he agreed with then he would praise them, soldiers and scientists alike. One of the things she had learned to like about him the most was that he could take as good as he gave. He didn't hold back his comments, but he never expected others to either, and while he was abrasive and rude and arrogant his forwardness was refreshing as you always knew where you stood with him. Most importantly, he would give everything he could to ensure all of their safety.

The people who mattered on Atlantis knew this, and while his brilliance inspired and awed pretty much everyone there, it was his loyalty that had them following him, soldiers and scientists alike. He was there for them and for the science, but she knew that he did more than that. It had been her idea to get him the kittens, but it had been a lot of other people who had followed through with it. She was pretty sure it was the most organized military/scientific mutual endeavour to ever take place that didn't involve orders or lives.

"If you could just clip this to that crystal on your right…no, the other one. No, the other…perfect. Thank you, sergeant," Dr. Mills dismissed her and she quickly pulled herself out of the hole, picking up her weapon as she stood and took quick stock of the room before leaning against the wall once again. Looking over at Colonel Sheppard and Zelenka she saw that they stood further apart now, the air of privacy no longer surrounding them. Whatever they had been discussing about McKay while she'd been playing assistant was over, but Sheppard still looked a bit tense. Actually, he'd been looking too tense for a while now, which was saying something considering his position in the city.

Upon first glance most people believed he was actually the laid back, coolness personified Commander that he played at, but it didn't take long to understand exactly why he was the military leader here. The man was smart, smarter than most realized if McKay's occasional grumblings were to be believed. Sheppard took his job seriously, and while he managed it in a way that still made him appear approachable (which he generally was, at least when he wasn't pissed off), there was always an underlying current of energy and danger that had soldiers and scientists alike obeying his commands, despite the hair and easy attitude.

Seeing him this tense when there wasn't a crisis going on, well, it just made her want to fix things even though it was far from her place. There wasn't anything she could do anyway, and he was doing a very good job of hiding how he felt so she didn't think he'd appreciate her noticing the situation. Curiously she tuned back into their conversation.

"…complicated than we originally thought."

"Well yeah, I know that. I just want to know how long you think it will take before it's all running hunky-dory again," Sheppard replied, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Rodney has already explained this, no?"

"He started to, but Keagan needed something to be checked out."

"Ah, well, basically the stations database has corroded a bit more than we had initially derived. Not much, but many crystals need to be replaced and the information must be sorted. There is team working on the files we downloaded back on Atlantis, but so far they have not been able to find anything of real consequence." The scientist punched a few keys on his console and then turned back to Sheppard. "Many of the systems, while coming on line, are no longer connected in clear path for access."

"So once the connections have been re-established and redirected to their appropriate areas you should be able to get more information on the telepathic steel?"

"Yes, hopefully, though it is again not so simple. The problems we are encountering are still allowing us to find bits of information and we have found parts mentioning the materials the ancients used in their technology, but nothing helpful. It is like reading a manual, only instead of following it through from one page to the next we are finding sentences from all parts of the manual and trying to connect them."

"Yeah, I get that. As long as the environmentals hold then I'm not too worried…unless I should be?" he hedged, watching Zelenka closely.

"I foresee no problems. The systems are damaged and old, but they still function. There is, of course, always a chance for disaster, as you are aware, but we have been keeping a very close eye on the systems, I assure you."

"I have no doubt," Sheppard replied when Zelenka held up his hand to pause their conversation. Zelenka nodded a few times and then grinned, his tired face once again transforming into excitement and he practically bounced on his feet.

"Really? Of course I don't think you would make it up. Yes, I am aware of that fact. Okay, we will be there shortly." He looked at Sheppard. "Rodney and Dr. Kwong have managed to partially activate the stations emergency evacuation systems." He quickly typed something into the computer sitting on top of the ancient technology and then bent down and grabbed the bag he'd been carrying with him since they'd arrived at this place. "We must go and see it now."

"What's so exciting about the escape pods?"

"They use the same transporting technology as the lifts on Atlantis."

"You've already picked those lifts to pieces, what else could you learn from the ones here?"

"Colonel, there can be differences between how such technology works. Of course it all follows the same scientific rudiments and design, because obviously there are only so many ways to demolecularize biological matter…or matter of any kind really, but not everything is constructed identically. It is much like comparing Playstation to Nintendo. Both play video games, but they are not the same." He quickly headed towards the open entrance nearest them, the Colonel right beside him as they hurried off to this new discovery.

Rafat looked down at her current scientist, who was still muttering to himself and wiggling his rear end like nobodies business, and sighed. Maybe she could get him to explain to her what he was doing as he worked, at least that way she could do more than stand around. And lunch had only ended an hour ago.

0000000

Ronon had been following Rodney from place to place all day and for once he hadn't felt the need to comment negatively on the behaviour. Of course, the fact that every scientist had a soldier, or warrior in this case, paired with them in case of a disaster (because they were obviously much more capable of dealing with an infiltration of squids than Rodney himself was) gave him less reason to complain. Actually, having Ronon's giant shadow tailing around after him had turned out to be a blessing, as it turned out that Dr. Strat didn't care too much for him. The visiting doctor hadn't spent nearly as much time with him today as he had previously with Teyla as his escort.

Of course there was also the downside of having Ronon around, despite his comforting presence, and that was his complete lack of interest in pretty much everything they were doing here. Honestly, the only way he could express his boredom more than he already was would be to fall asleep where he stood. That was just annoying, because Rodney was practically running off his feet with things to do at this point, and the fact that the corridors in this place were all curved to fit the shape of the structure itself didn't help him read his work while he walked. He had never realized how prudent straight hallways were.

"I am perfectly capable of wandering around here myself, you know. In fact, I'm about one hundred times more capable than you are. Why don't you go loom over Teyla and Keagan? I'm sure they'd enjoy your excess body heat." He grumbled, and he could _feel_ the Satedan shrug behind him.

"Can't. Sheppard's orders."

"Oh please, they don't pertain to me," he declared and looked over his shoulder to see Ronon quirking a disbelieving eyebrow at him. "Fine."

"Besides, I'm safer hanging out with you," he commented lightly and Rodney automatically straightened his shoulder's. Maybe having Ronon around wasn't so bad after all.

"Dr. McKay," Dr. Kwong and Sergeant Michaels came around the bend and headed down the brightly lit corridor toward them. "I have finished."

"Great, good work," he looked into the open wall panel before him and pushed the last crystal into place before pulling out quickly to avoid any possible sparks and waited a moment. Nothing happened. "Hmmm," he frowned and then saw the problem, quickly swapped the crystals and pulled back again as they all simultaneously lit up. "There we go," he grinned even as he moved to pick up his computer and read the screen. Yes! Finally, they'd been working on this all day. "Power levels are up to sixty-eight percent. That's enough power to look into it."

Dr. Kwong nodded, because he wasn't the type to smile, and stepped up to the sliding door. A moment later it slid sluggishly open in response to his ATA gene and he stepped in without hesitation. For a moment Rodney held his breath as the fear of all the things that could go wrong simply by stepping into the room rushed to the forefront of his mind and he viciously shoved them back. Kwong had been taking the precautions to ensure the room was safe to enter before they activated it and Rodney trusted him enough to know his job. It was still difficult to quell the fear of the possibilities of disaster always leaping into his mind. He followed Kwong in, leaving the soldiers in the hallway and took his first look around. Literally. The room was circular.

"I like the rec. room better," Ronon commented and Rodney looked over to see him leaning casually against the door frame, Michaels peering in around him.

"You would," he rolled his eyes. They had discovered the recreation room the day before, which was virtually a reality sized version of Zelda, where the holographic characters within the 'game' took on the physical appearance of the players. By standing in one of several cordoned off areas the images mimicked the actions of the players. Rodney had found it disconcerting to run on the spot while the image of himself ran along a beach. It was completely cool of course, if rather useless, and Sheppard and Ronon had been thrilled.

McKay called Zelenka and then looked around more carefully. The floor and ceiling was a foggy white and looked like it was made from really thick glass that sparkled slightly. Interestingly enough there were no markings on the floor indicating where people should stand to be transported to a specific escape vehicle. They hadn't been able to find the schematics for this room from the control room, but he was hoping that the room itself would have some kind of information that was stored in its own systems, as they were more intact than the rest of the station.

From what he understood, in the case of an emergency, a person simply had to run into this room and they would be automatically transported to the escape vessels that were located in several places along the top of the stations hull. There was no tinkering with controls to get people to safety but…where were the panels for maintenance…ahh there we go. He stepped back as several thin coverings travelling around the room slid open to reveal a cacophony of coloured wires and crystals set up in a beautiful, logical symmetry that he had not yet seen. From across the room Kwong let out a breath, his only sign of excitement, and quickly moved to examine it.

"I like the rec. room better," Sheppard's voice cut across his thoughts and he looked over to see him stepping into the room and looking around.

"That's what I said," Ronon supplied and how was he supposed to respond to that?

"This is incredible," Zelenka jumped in, his glasses catching and reflecting the light that came from the milky floor and ceiling as he carefully stepped into the room, as if afraid of where he put his feet. Actually, he had good reason to be, because they had no idea of the state of the escape pods and being transported into them right now would be nothing short of disastrous.

"Yes yes, it's very exciting. Have you made any leeway on the database?"

"Yes, in the twenty minutes since you stormed away like big child I managed to reconnect all systems and discovered everything we need."

"I did not storm away like a child, I was preventing a homicide!" He glared at Sheppard, who he wasn't sure how to act around right now and decided that anger was the best form of address. The Colonel merely ignored him as he moved over to Kwong and looked into one of the open panels like he knew what he was doing.

"Dr. Mills and Miko are still working on it," Zelenka cut in and walked slowly, practically testing the ground before each step, over to him and Rodney rolled his eyes at his actions. Honestly, he could travel to crush depths in a puddle jumper but he couldn't walk on a white floor.

"Dr. McKay?" Keagan's voice, a rather irritating voice, called through his ear piece and Rodney barely refrained from rubbing his temple at the interruption. It wasn't that Keagan was being any more annoying than usual, it was just that he was an impatient man who hadn't been happy with the decision to only work on systems _after_ it had been checked by Radek and Rodney.

"Yes, what is it?" He asked, and inwardly cringed at the irritation that automatically carried in his own voice.

"I'm in a lab in Corridor C, subsection A. There's a console in here that's different from the others that I've been working on and I want to take a look at it."

"All right, I'll come by and take a look in a few minutes."

"It would be quicker if I just took a look at it myself. Dr. Strat is here to help and I think we can-"

"Oh, yes, because Dr. Strat has the experience and technical background to check on the systems that Zelenka, myself, and even you don't hmmm?"

"That's not what I meant-"

"I'm perfectly aware that you're trying to use him as an excuse to speed up your own work by scaring me into agreeing to your asinine idea. The answer is no. I'll be there shortly and _I_ will examine the systems before you touch them. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

"Good," he growled and huffed in irritation as he closed the connection.

"Problems?" Sheppard asked, his eyes focusing on Rodney and for a moment he forgot that he was mad at the man for reading his history without checking with him first and rolled his eyes.

"Not unless you call idiots with a superiority complex a problem. I don't know how he's managed to survive on Atlantis for so long with his complete inability to follow instructions."

"You need to have a talk with him?" John asked as he stepped up beside Rodney and randomly handed him a powerbar. Rodney took it with a nod of thanks and tore into it.

"I will when I get there, and get Dr. Strat away from him while he's still not bowled over by the impeccable hair and white teeth."

"Rodney," Zelenka called from across the room and he looked over to see the man on the floor, looking into a panel he had pried off himself. Huh, he could work fast when Rodney wasn't paying attention.

"Yes?"

"I believe we should have Miko join us," he suggested as he began attaching wires from the wall to his computer. Rodney found himself nodding in agreement as he moved over to look at the readouts on the screen.

"Yes, of course. She would enjoy this," he muttered before getting caught up in the energy readings. Fifteen minutes passed before Keagan called him again and asked impatiently if he was still in the transport room.

"Yes I'm still here, where else would I be?" he snapped and shut off the connection.

"Want me to go?" Zelenka asked quietly, Rodney glared at him, and Radek rolled his eyes and muttered softly in Czech about just trying to be nice. He forced himself to stand, his back popping in protest, and back away from his computer to look around the room. Four scientists working away and Sheppard and Thompkins, leaning pointlessly against the wall, took up more space than he would have thought. At his movement both soldiers moved towards him

"I'm going to go check on Keagan" he announced and, to his surprise and amusement, Thompkins practically leapt forward.

"I'll go with you," his deep voice eagerly announced, and then he looked over at Sheppard, who was barely repressing an irritated glance. "If that's alright you with you?"

"No, go ahead," Sheppard waved his hand casually and Rodney frowned at the stiffness of the gesture. "I'll stay here and…do stuff."

"Whatever, just try not to turn anything on."

"I'll do my best to restrain myself," he deadpanned. Rodney merely grabbed his computer and headed out of the room, feeling the Colonel's eyes lingering on his back. Looking over his shoulder he saw Ronon step into the room, no doubt to keep John company.

"So, regretting coming on this excursion yet?" He commented dryly to Thompkins who let a small grin slip onto his face a moment.

"Not at all. It's been very enlightening." They walked for a minute in silence, Rodney not really knowing what to say and Thompkins…well, he was usually quiet. Then the silence was broken as he cleared his throat in a suspiciously uneasy way, and Rodney quickly decided to say something before the man embarrassed them both.

"If you're going to say anything even remotely related to feelings or the past then let me state that things are great and can we please leave it at that?"

"I was going to ask if you'd noticed any odd behaviour in any of your staff lately, but sure, we could also avoid a heart to heart." Rodney frowned and gave him a suspicious sidelong glance.

"Are you sure? Because you sounded nervous, in a masculine sort of way."

"Positive."

"Oh." He looked ahead again. After the colourful stain glass of Atlantis the plain white and silver hallways of this station were very boring. Then he thought about what Jerry had asked. "Suspicious behaviours? What kind of suspicious, and why are you asking? Do you know something that I-" He abruptly cut off as the floor beneath his feet shook suddenly. He lost his balance and slammed shoulder first into the wall on his right. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder (that was going to leave a mark) and steadying himself he waited as the shaking quickly subsided and the groaning that had accompanied it dissipated.

"What was that?" Thompkins demanded, pushing away from the wall he'd used as support.

"How should I know!" He demanded. He wasn't psychic damn it! He slapped his radio on. "Sheppard, Zelenka, come in!" He waited a moment and repeated the demand, and then called for Teyla and Keagan. There was no response. He immediately headed towards the lab where Keagan had been, and Thompkins followed him without a word. It was only a moment later that he heard the hiss of the ventilation system and prayed to God that it wasn't depleting the station of its air supply. He rounded the corner to see Teyla dragging a half squirming Keagan into the hallway and noting that a smoky cloud along the ceiling was rapidly disappearing. Strat was standing next to her, looking shell shocked.

"What happened?" He demanded of Teyla as he ran over and then noticed that her arm was bleeding. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine, though I am not sure what happened. Dr. Keagan stated that you had given him permission to access his station…"

"He WHAT!" He twisted on his feet and glared down at the half dazed man who looked as though he had managed to escape mostly undamaged.

"I'm sorry, Doctor," he whimpered, "I thought it was safe, and you were taking so long."

"I told you-" he cut himself off abruptly and took a deep breath. "Never mind, I'll deal with you later. What did you do?"

"I don't know. I was accessing systems that were connected to the emergency plans. I wanted to see what else this station offered. There must have been a faulty load somewhere because the other side of the room just exploded." Oh, idiot of idiots!

"The emergency systems?" He looked into the room which was virtually clear of smoke and then rushed in, moving right to the console. It was intact, but its power flow was minimal. The screen was very clear, however, as ancient words flowed quickly across the screen with big blinking lights denoting urgency. He focused on the words and felt the blood drain from his face.

"Colonel? Zelenka! Ronon! Somebody answer me!" He screeched (he'd be embarrassed later) into his radio.

"Dr. McKay!" Sergeant Michael's voice came through loud and clear. "They're not here! They were in the room one minute and now they're not! What happened?"

Rodney stared at the screen, having trouble focusing as panic began to overwhelm him.

"I don't know," he said weakly, his hands dropping to his sides. "I don't know."

* * * * * * * * * *


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

The lingering smell of burnt crystals, something he had become too familiar with over the last few years, still lingered in the air. Keagan was quietly whimpering off to the side, Thompkins was looming tensely over him and Teyla was standing in front of him demanding to know what was going on. Rodney was staring at the somewhat broken console, the ancient words telling him that something had gone seriously wrong in fragmented sentences that matched the way his brain felt: scattered.

He was not panicking! He was not panicking! He was not…

"Dr. McKay, you must focus!" Teyla's hand came around to grasp his arm and when he looked up Sheppard's face was staring back at him, blood trickling from above his eyebrow and his eyes fogged over in death. He sucked in a sharp breath and slammed his eyes closed in revulsion. Opening them a moment later he met Teyla's worried brown eyes watching him with concern. Oh please don't be going crazy now, this was not the time. _Pull yourself together!_ His gaze focused and he took a deep breath, forcing himself back under control and shoving the panic to the back of his mind to be reviewed later, in private. He had work to do.

"Right. Focused, I'm focused." He looked back down at the console and tapped in a few commands, beginning a basic diagnostic before attempting to operate any other systems. He stepped back and tapped his ear piece. "I need a head count people. Report!"

"Dr. Miko, Dr. Mills, and Sergeant Rafat accounted for sir!" A sharp female voice carried over the speaker.

"Sergeant Michaels accounted for sir!" Well obviously, since Rodney had already spoken to him. He wasted a few tense seconds for the rest of the group to report, which they failed to do. Miserably.

"Right, I have Teyla, Thompkins, Strat, and, unfortunately, Keagan with me. That means Sheppard, Zelenka, Kwong, and Ronon are the only people missing." He paused and frowned at the screen before him as the diagnostic was almost complete. "Michaels, head over to the control room and stay with Rafat's group. Kusanagi, Mills, I need you to begin looking for anything you can about the ancients emergency systems. I need anything you can dig up, but focus on their evacuation methods." There was a sharp agreement from the soldier and some mumbled words from the scientists as they no doubt went to follow his instructions. Right, that was done. Now, he needed to get a link with his missing people.

"They still have their radios, which means they should still be able to communicate with us," he frowned to himself.

"Dr. McKay, I don't understand what's going on," Strat chose that moment to helpfully interrupt his thoughts and he glared at the man, completely ignoring his slight flinch.

"They were in the emergency transport room when our star pupil over here," he stabbed an accusing finger at Keagan, who had finally pulled himself together enough to join the mismatched group huddling around him like lost children, "touched something he shouldn't. As far as I can tell he managed to activate the systems and, subsequently, triggered the transports. I think they were sent to the escape pods."

"But we haven't had a chance to look at those yet."

"Somebody give the man a gold star!" He snapped crossly, but Strat apparently wasn't finished as he opened his mouth again. Couldn't he see that Rodney needed to focus here?

"I'm just saying that if they aren't responding then chances of them still being alive are-"

"Astronomical! And if you aren't capable of providing productive opinions then go stand in the corner and wait until I call you!" He took a deep breath and blew it out his nose, trying to calm the sudden impulse to strangle the man. He refused to believe that they were dead. They couldn't be! It was just not acceptable.

* * * * * * * * * *

Strat tried not to flinch back from the hard stare that McKay was giving him, but it was an automatic reaction to such a venomous gaze. He hadn't wanted to be the voice of reason, but he had felt that somebody needed to state that the missing people on their team might not still be alive. He had no intentions of shuffling off to the corner as McKay had suggested, and he resented being spoken to as though he were a child. He understood the implications of what was happening here, he was far from an idiot and McKay knew it!

He had to respond to the insulting outburst, but as usual when around McKay he was having trouble figuring out exactly what he wanted to say. Actually, it was more along the lines of picking one of the thousand retorts floating on the tip of his tongue and then managing to say it without sounding flustered. He took a breath, preparing to snap back at the lead scientist of Atlantis when the piercing blue gaze shifted away from him and glazed over for a second, before he rapidly snapped his fingers three times.

"Shields! Frequencies! Of course. Why didn't I think of it sooner?" He slapped at his radio, maybe a little too hard but he didn't seem to notice as he turned on his foot and began storming from the room. "Follow me," he snapped, not waiting for them. Teyla slid smoothly into step beside him, a move that appeared to be well practiced to Strat, her hand on her weapon in readiness even though there didn't appear to be anything to shoot around here.

Strat quickly moved to Keagan, who was still looking too pale and maybe slightly sweaty. His hair was dishevelled and there was a rip in the sleeve of the lab coat he had insisted on wearing the entire time they'd been on this station. Despite that he moved quickly, if a little unsteadily, to follow his boss and Strat fell in watchful step beside him. It wasn't that he particularly cared for the man, especially not now that he understood he had gone above his instructions and possibly caused the current disaster, but Strat figured he should make sure he was relatively okay. Keagan had been closer to the site of the explosion than he had been, and his own ears were still ringing. He couldn't imagine how Teyla, who had been closest, was dealing with the headache she must have, but she was practically running alongside McKay up ahead.

He heard Thompkins quiet steps behind him, and then focused on McKay as he began to speak again. His voice also carried through his ear as his radio picked it up, creating an annoying echo.

"Miko?"

"Yes, I am here Dr. McKay," came the quiet, cultured voice.

"I need you to take Rafat and head to the Manta, okay?"

"Yes. What is it that you wish me to do?"

"Move, are you moving?" His impatience was clear, though why he was impatient Strat didn't know. He didn't have to snap at the woman like that. She was one of his most adamant supporters during Strat's stay in Atlantis.

"Yes Doctor, we are on our way," she replied calmly, which seemed to calm McKay a bit as his head bobbed up and down in satisfaction.

"Good. You need to adjust our radio frequencies. The escape pods are probably equipped with individual shields. It's possible that by activating the emergency systems the fields were also activated and we need to adjust to their specific frequency to communicate through them."

"Yes, I understand."

"Okay, we're on our way back to the main control room for now so we can regroup. Sergeant Michaels, have you reached the control room yet?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, we are no longer using the transport lifts that were deemed safe. From this point forward we walk everywhere people, so download a map into your notebooks if you have to. We should be there in about ten minutes." He signed off and kept walking, muttering to himself as he moved quickly down the corridors. Strat had thought it was annoying to keep up to the pace he walked between labs on Atlantis, but it appeared now that that had been slow compared to his emergency mode. Teyla's voice drifted back to them, too quiet to decipher the words as they were meant for the scientist ahead. They didn't do much to relax McKay, but he nodded stiffly, as though he was agreeing with her. His pace didn't slow.

The female warrior then looked subtly over her shoulder and for a moment Strat thought she was looking at him, to see that they were okay and following, until he realized she was looking behind him, at Thompkins. It was a quick glance, but it had delivered a message that Strat was apparently incapable of understanding. He looked over his shoulder at Thompkins to see the Major staring relentlessly at the back of Keagan's head, but at Strat's movement he looked sharply at him, and shook his head slightly. Strat looked ahead again, feeling slightly dizzy from turning forward so quickly. At least the ringing in his ears was dissipating.

What was that all about? He knew Thompkins was here under his own orders, which were both similar and different from Strats' own. While Strat had been investigating McKay's capability to head up the science division of Atlantis, Thompkins had been looking into the whole Greenwall situation. Actually, the two of them had barely seen each other in their time on Atlantis and whenever they were together Thompkins showed nothing but the strictest discipline. He was apparently still irritated with Strat about the "confidential" documents regarding McKay's abduction in China. Honestly, he didn't see what the big deal was; confidential files were released all the time for specific cases.

McKay being upset he could see, and regretted not having the foresight to inform the man sooner, but that hadn't, and still wasn't, his concern. Whatever misplaced emotions were going around right now Strat didn't care too much about. He figured the soldier's interest in Keagan lay in the fact that he was responsible for this mess, but the intensity of his look was a bit excessive. He wondered if something else was going on.

Just as he thought he might become embarrassingly winded at the fast pace they were keeping they were at the control room, which was located in the middle on the top floor of the station and McKay was bustling about like a tornado on crack. Dr. Mills quickly stepped away from where he was working as the Canadian practically vaulted over the console and began going through all the data.

"Miko!" He snapped into the radio. "Are we waiting for the next ice age here? Because at the rate some glaciers are receding we'll be waiting for-"

"I am just finishing now, Dr. McKay. Please, a few moments more," her voice sounded through all of their radios. They waited tensely, McKay and Mills the only people doing anything as Keagan had been ordered to not touch anything and Thompkins was looking eager to pull his side arm. "Okay Doctor, I have calibrated the radio systems to correlate with the shield specifications our scanners suggested…"

"Yes, yes, yes. Good. Sheppard, Zelenka come in!" He demanded as his entire body stilled unnaturally. They waited a moment. "Somebody had better answer me really soon or I swear I'll-"

"This is Sheppard," the Colonel's voice drawled, and the change in McKay was instantaneous as his shoulders slumped and his grip on the console looked like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

"Colonel!" McKay cut in quickly, not giving the man a chance to say anything else. "Are you alone? Who else is with you? Are you hurt?"

"If you had given me a moment to finish, I was about to say that Ronon, Kwong and Zelenka are with me and, despite one knock to the head, we're all in one piece." Strat didn't know the man very well, but at the tone of voice he was imagining the accompanying eye roll. McKay stood there, staring into space with a relieved, kind of pinched grimace on his face, and after a few moments of silence he rolled his own eyes in frustration.

"And…?"

"And…thank you for fixing the radios?"

"What? No, I need more information to go on than that Colonel. How do you expect me to save your…you know what? Forget it, just don't say anything else. Zelenka!" He barked out, his eyes once again focusing on the screen. Strat moved around to look over his shoulder, but not knowing Ancient he couldn't understand most of what was being spewed across the screen. Normally the programs were put through translation codes first, which didn't take longer the thirty seconds to a minute but apparently McKay was too impatient to wait for even that.

"I am here, Rodney. We appear to be inside one of the escape vehicles."

"Yes, well I figured that out already through the sheer obviousness of this situation."

"Rodney!" Sheppard firmly pressed. "We're all okay for now, we don't seem to be in immediate danger here, so play nice," he ordered and McKay looked like he really wanted to snap something back at that, but restrained himself with effort. Strat moved over to Mills, where he could read bits of the information that was cropping up on his console and computer, but it was still moving rather fast.

"Okay, fine. Can you tell me the structure of the pod? We may be able to search for information if we have a physical description to go with it." Strat thought he heard someone mutter that it was round in the background.

"It appears to be circular. The floor is flat but it rounds over our heads. I see lines that indicate a hatch opening, but there is no obvious mechanism for such a task." The heavily accented voice informed them. "There are seats lining against the wall, six in total, and nothing in the middle of craft. There is floor space of about seventy-five centimeter radius. Colonel Sheppard is sitting next to arm rest which is the only sign of accessible console in this craft."

"Huh, cozy."

"Not so much. The seats are like rock and safety belts feel like they will chafe." Rodney's fingers were flying over the computer as they spoke and he nodded absently along with the conversation.

"Right. Can you access the console?"

"All tools we were working with were deposited as well. We were placed in the seats, and the tools were placed on the floor. The problem is that when we were placed in seats we were also placed under safety belts." Rodney frowned and looked over at Teyla, who stared back impassively.

"Oh, the ancients were really prepared, huh? You can't access the console without the tools?"

"I have not had much chance to try yet as lights only came on moments before you called and they flicker like disco club."

"Have Ronon dislocate his shoulder and squirm out of the restraints."

"Rodney…" Sheppard sounded frustrated.

"Oh please, if Martin Riggs can do it then Ronon can definitely pull it off." There was some shifting in the background and then a satisfied grunt and what sounded like Sheppard saying 'do me next.' "What's going on?"

"Ronon has pulled disturbingly large knife from his hair." Zelenka happily informed them.

"Oh, I suppose I should have thought of that first," Rodney shrugged, completely unsurprised. Strat looked around to see if anyone else thought that that was disturbing, but he'd read some pretty weird things over the years so he probably shouldn't be surprised, especially not after having been in the Satedan's presence. The man was scary. "Let me know once you have it open." He signed off and looked at Mills quickly before tapping his radio again.

"Miko, I need you to patch me through to Atlantis, but make sure we can maintain contact with the pod."

"It is done," she replied instantly.

"Atlantis this is McKay, respond." A moment later he demanded to speak to Weir, but as Strat had not heard the response he determined that they were now speaking on a closed circuit transmission.

"Elizabeth, we have a situation here…no, nobody was hurt badly and everyone is accounted for. There was an equipment malfunction and a few people have been transported into the emergency pods. They're okay, but I need to find a way to get them out and with the mess the database is in it may take a while to find the necessary information."

"Dr. McKay," Mills interrupted earning a glare from the man but he put Dr. Weir on hold and looked at him expectantly. "One of the engines seem to have been impaired. We are beginning to drift slightly with the current."

"Are we sinking?"

"Not at the moment, and we are moving slowly, perhaps two kilometres an hour at the most."

"Right, thanks. Elizabeth? You'll find we are slowly drifting, so don't be alarmed when the sensors pick that up. I need you to prep a rescue jumper…no, don't deploy it just yet. I have enough people here already to work on things, but if I need more help I'll let you know. As it is I want to check the systems before trying to phase the jumper's shields through the stations, in case it's decided that that's all it needs to kill us all." He walked over to Mills and Strat stepped over to his other shoulder so he could clear the path. He watched as McKay nodded to whatever Weir was saying and typed something on Mills' computer and then pointing at what looked like a power fluctuation graph. Mills nodded in understanding and McKay went back to his other station.

"Yes. In the meantime I need to speak with whoever it is I put in charge of this database on your end. Yes, her. Thank you." And he proceeded to give instructions on what to look for and for any information to be sent over immediately.

"Rodney," Dr. Zelenka's voice filled his ear once again and he jumped slightly, still not having grown used to people randomly speaking in his ear, "I have accessed console, but it is a bit jumbled. Very crammed. It will take a bit of time to get organized."

"Right, work on environmental controls first, I need to know how the air and heat is cycled." There was a moment of heavy silence on the other end.

"Right, I'm on it."

"Good, so am I," and with that he gave Miko some more instructions, ordered Keagan to stay were he was when he began to move to a console, and dove back into his work.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mills worked quickly, shuffling through file after jumbled file as he accepted and discarded information almost as quickly as it came in. What a mess. What an absolute mess! It made Windows look like a godsend. He should have known something was going to go wrong during this excursion. Something always did when it involved large groups of people and research. He was having flashbacks to the nanovirus incident in their first year here, and that day they'd spent fixing the waste receptacles and almost been drowned in Atlantis's version of gooey blue pipe sanitizer. Of course something would have to go wrong here as well, especially as things had been so calm and peaceful.

Oh! Was that…no, it wasn't anything important. He quickly clicked to the next file and looked over at the second computer he had hastily hooked up to see if his subject scan was producing anything of interest. Not yet. He squinted at it, and then went back to his search, and then looked up as Keagan, who had been standing silently for the last ten minutes, huffed and began moving determinedly towards a console. And really, Mills thought he shouldn't be surprised at the quick reflexes of the military personnel that protected Atlantis anymore, but it impressed him every time. This time was no different, as both Major Thompkins and Teyla had weapons in their hands and pointed at the scientist before it could even occur to one to blink.

"Hold it!" Thompkins barked out, his voice cold and commanding and Keagan jerked to a stop and whirled around wide eyed at the weapons drawn at him.

"What? I…are you crazy!" He went to take a step and Thompkins snarled at him. Yes, snarled.

"What part of don't move did you not understand?"

"I think we've already concluded that he's missing an imperative part of his brain that allows for processing orders," Rodney declared, barely looking up from his work. "Can we save the drama for another time? Wait, wait, no" he looked up suddenly with hopeful eyes, "can you just shoot him? It would make life much more bearable." Keagan spluttered, not at all amused, but Thompkins didn't look amused either. Actually, come to think of it, he never looked amused.

"I can't shoot him Doctor, the paper work takes too long. Keagan, I want your hands where we can see them. Don't make any sudden moves."

"What is this about? You can't be serious! It was a mistake! I didn't mean to send them into the pods, I swear!" Keagan declared, jerking his head back and forth between the Major and McKay.

"I'm sure you didn't mean to send _them_ into the pods," the Major declared, soft and dangerous.

"Okay," McKay's right arm flew around in front of him expressively, "apparently I'm missing something, because this is a little over the top, don't you think? What is going on, and make it quick, I have lives to save here."

"Major Thompkins believes that Dr. Keagan has been attempting to murder you," Teyla quietly informed him. Oh great, it was another one of _those_ situations that McKay always managed to fall into. Mills went back to work as he listened to the conversation flowing around him, not needing to see McKay's red face of incredulity and Keagan's wide eyed panic to know what it looked like already.

"What? Are you serious? On what grounds? And what do you mean 'attempting' to murder me? Has he tried before? Because I think I would have noticed."

"The SGC became suspicious after receiving the report on your jumper crash last month. After Greenwall we didn't want to take any chances, so I was assigned to investigate." There was a moment of silence as McKay processed this, though why it was difficult to comprehend…

"Is that why you've all been following me again?" He suddenly asked and Mills looked up to see his leader looking at Teyla with a frown on his face.

"We felt that it would be best to not worry you with threats to your life before it became necessary. It was a precaution," she answered, looking as serene as ever in the face of Rodney's sputtering.

"What? You…Sheppard!" he snapped into his radio as he turned to glare at Thompkins again.

"What is it, McKay?"

"I can't believe you went behind my back _again_! After all this time I would have thought you people could figure out that I'm not going to freak out over something as mundane as threats to my very existence! But no! Apparently you think it's better to leave me in the dark and go about your covert stalking! And don't think I don't know you were in on this too, Zelenka" he snarled.

"I did not say anything," came the accented response.

"You didn't have to, I know how your conniving Czech mind works."

"Major, do you want to tell me what's going on," Sheppard ordered, his voice cool and reasonable in Mills's ear.

"I'll tell you what's going on!" Rodney fumed, "They have, in their infinite wisdom decided that Keagan has been trying to kill me…"

"Sir," Thompkins cut off Rodney's rant, his gun never wavering from Keagan, though Teyla had relaxed hers. "Keagan went against orders and accessed a system which caused some form of malfunction which resulted in sending you to the pods. Shortly before the accident he contacted McKay to confirm that he was still in the room."

"Of course he did, he has the impatience of a five year old and didn't want to wait any longer for me to come hold his hand," McKay waved his arms around in annoyance before quickly looking back at his computer.

"He was also scheduled to do maintenance near the ancient trash compactor only an hour before McKay was scheduled to fix it. He pushed him off the maintenance scanning platform before coming here and he was recorded as being in the jumper bay before Rodney and Griffin took the puddlejumper for its test flight." Thompkins stated calmly and McKay was watching them again. Mills kept glancing between his work and the scenario unfolding before him.

"Oh, and I suppose he also loosened the bolts on the support railing in the gate room the other day, eh?"

"You have to admit that that's a lot of coincidences, McKay," Sheppard stated and Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Yes, well if we want to look at situations like that then maybe I should declare that Atlantis is also an attempted murderer, oh, and so are you as more often than not you're around me when I'm almost dying."

"You do not feel that Dr. Keagan may have been making an attempt on your life?" Teyla asked calmly, reasonably, deflating Rodney's air a bit.

"The evidence is there," Thompkins pointed out, his gun still not wavering. Weren't his arms getting sore?

"Honestly? No, I don't think he's capable of trying to kill me. Wanting to? Hell, most people on my staff have probably wanted to at some point or another," Mills snorted, and then stared intensely at his work as his boss turned to glare at him. "I think I would have probably noticed him trying to kill me. I'm rather suspicious by nature, and, by the way, I also do my own investigations after nearly dying to ensure that the events were accidental. Couldn't you have just asked me in the first place?" He was looking at Teyla now, but it was Sheppard that answered.

"McKay, we needed to make sure before I could tell you. Let's face it, you're not very good at pretending to be oblivious."

"I am so!"

"You lost your Lindor stash to Chuck in poker last week. _Chuck!_" he emphasized, as though it were important and McKay's lips pursed in annoyance.

"I was off my game that night," he defended, but something beeped on his console and he lost his train of thought as he was distracted.

"Major, I think it's safe to assume that Keagan isn't as guilty as we think," Sheppard stated.

"I swear I'm not trying to kill McKay! I could never…I..I'm a pacifist!"

"You're an arrogant ass who can't play well with others, but I'll concede that you're not a killer. You're too stupid," McKay announced, absorbed in his work. Thompkins hesitated a moment and then holstered his weapon, Teyla doing the same and Keagan went and leaned against the nearest wall, sliding slowly to the ground.

"Everything okay over there now?" Sheppard asked casually, as though he were wondering about the weather.

"Yes sir. I'll be keeping an eye on things though," Thompkins stated dryly, looking directly at Keagan who swallowed nervously.

"And don't think this is over between us, because I am seriously not happy with any of you right now," Rodney snapped, always having to get the last word.

"What else is new, McKay," Sheppard muttered and, when McKay didn't respond Mills looked over at him, seeing the tension that had been following him around everywhere these last few days settle heavily on his shoulders again. Whatever was going on between those two needed to be sorted out, but now was not the time and as McKay already seemed to be focusing on the task at hand, he thought so as well. His second computer beeped quietly and he looked over. Ah, his search had found something. As he accessed the necessary parameters a very, very detailed blue print of the station popped up. Now they were getting somewhere.

* * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

"Miko, you're driving," Rodney declared as he scurried into the Manta without a flinch and dropped his bag of equipment behind the main chair. Hearing her gasp he turned around to see wide eyes, made larger by rather large glasses, and hands fluttering negatively in front of her.

"Oh, no. Sir, Dr. McKay, I cannot…I do not wish to…I do not drive. I am sorry," and she looked so appallingly heart broken and terrified at the same time that he really couldn't get upset with her. Besides, she'd be more useful working with him.

"Fine fine, no problem. Sergeant, take the wheel please."

"Sure thing, Doc." Rafat slid smoothly into the seat, her weapon still somehow comfortably strapped across her chest. "Where to?" she asked as she powered it up, a low thrumming, barely noticeable, engulfed the ship but McKay was to busy looking at the data Mills found to pay it any attention.

"We need to get above it, that's were the pods are" he looked at the exterior diagram Mills had found, noting all the emergency vessels locations. There were nine to choose from, and he needed to figure out which one his friends were in.

"It is okay," he heard Miko speaking to Rafat, "the shield is stable and we should not damage it with our departure." Of course they wouldn't. Did anyone really think he would be in here if it would lead to destruction? At least he'd been able to convince everyone else to remain on the station and continue their work. It was getting a bit heavy with Teyla's assessing looks and Thompkins over protectiveness from Keagan of all people. He didn't have time to deal with that. He looked out the front screen, seeing the dark blue almost black water just beyond as the ship pulled away from the station and then looped around. He refused to let it bother him…or tried to because this was no time for flashbacks or panic attacks and he was perfectly safe. Perfectly safe…oh, thank god he could see the station now.

It was dark, too dark to see the metal shells finer details, but the manta was equipped with an excellent set of lights that illuminated large patches of the structure brightly and cast a slightly wider softer glow. It was enough to work with. He stared intently out the windshield, his trained gaze searching for his target. It was only a few minutes before he found his first one.

"There," he pointed out sharply and Rafat pulled the Manta around to face the escape pod head on.

"It doesn't look like much," she commented idly.

"Not everything can be a work of art," he muttered back. It looked like an aberration, a giant mole on the surface of smooth perfection. The pods were indeed round, as both Zelenka and the diagrams had informed him. They were supposed to sit in sealed bays just under the stations exterior hull and when they were to be released a door in the hull was meant to slide open and release it to float to the top. This one was three quarters of the way out of its chamber, but something was obviously wrong as it should be at the surface by now, not stubbornly attached like a bad black head. He frowned at it and then asked the Manta (or more demanded…politely) to scan it for life forms. The scan came back negative.

"They're not in that one. Lets go to the next." The next one's door hadn't even been opened, nor was the one after that. The one after that had been released properly and the pod was somewhere on the surface, bobbing on the waves.

"That one looks larger than the rest of them," Rafat pointed out as they rounded to the top and center of the station and McKay spared it a quick glance before informing them it was empty and moving on.

"That was the control pod," he belatedly answered, once again looking at the information scrolling on his screen.

"The control pod? Shouldn't they have been sent to that one then? Seeing as they were the only ones beaming in to evacuate?" She asked.

"If the station was functioning as we believe it should, then it would have determined that there were still people in the station. The last people evacuating were the ones meant to be in the control pod, most likely the leaders of the station, as they would first ensure others safety before their own," Miko answered.

"That's a nice theory," Rodney muttered under his breath, knowing the other two hadn't heard him. It was entirely possible that the pod they were stuck in had been successfully released and was floating somewhere on the surface; they merely couldn't tell because of inertial dampeners. Hopefully that was the case, but Mills was still searching for that information back on the station.

"Then the control pod can still control the station?"

"To a minimal extent, depending on the situation of course," Miko replied quietly. "Mainly, it controls the other pods once they are released. It is the connection between them all, if you will. It will monitor their status, communication, and perhaps even provide the escape vessels with instruction, but we have not yet had time to determine how that would work or if it is even possible." There was silence after that, as though the two had simultaneously decided they were satisfied and finished with the conversation.

They passed two more of the escape pod cavities, both empty, before coming upon one that was only partially released, its tip just peaking out of the station.

"That's the one we want," he pointed, as though it were not obvious. "Get closer."

"Yes, sir," Sergeant Rafat responded even as the craft began pulling towards their objective.

"I have four life signs," Miko stated, her eyes intent on her equipment.

"Yes, yes," he already knew that. He stared intently at the circular entrance as they approached at an angle, giving him a good view. "Stop here. Can you maintain this?"

"I'll do my best," the soldier replied. He looked carefully at the grey hull. At this range, and under the lights of the Manta, the discolouration of the surface was clear. Thousands of years underwater would not maintain a pristine surface, even with the aid of a shield. Corrosion was corrosion after all. After a few quiet minutes spent examining the area carefully he sighed and turned away from the view. "Take us back," he ordered and activated his radio.

"Sheppard?" He barked into it.

"Sheppard here," was the quick response. He sounded a little strained and Rodney frowned.

"We found the pod you're in. There're no visible obstructions blocking the path out of the station, so our best bet is that something is wrong with the release clamps."

"Okay…"

"Obviously getting a dive crew in to cut you out won't work. From what I can see we'd have to go in from the top and by the time we'd finish cutting through the hull you would have drowned." He remembered the look on Griffin's face as he shut himself away on the other side of the compartment wall, the sound of water crushing through the front of the jumper.

"Yeah, let's not do that."

"My thoughts exactly," he replied around his frown. He shook himself out of the memory and looked out the view screen. They were making fast time and would be back on the station in a matter of minutes.

"Why don't we just take the whole station to the surface? Cut us out then," Ronon's rumbling voice joined the conversation. Did he sound impatient too?

"Well we could, theoretically. We'd have to turn on some more systems, which will eat up more power. We've also lost the use of one of the main engines completely in the explosion and I'm not sure if the others are strong enough to lift its mass to the surface."

"Use a puddle jumper then," Sheppard announced.

"Oh yes, because puddle jumpers are the answer to everything" he snapped, remembering the sound of glass cracking and water crushing through the front of the jumper. "Actually, that might work." He could practically hear Sheppard's smug smile. "Maybe. This isn't a light station, one engine is twice as large a jumper."

"Then we'll use two."

"Will you let me do the thinking please? You're giving me a migraine."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"What? Like five hours ago." There was silence on the other end and McKay instantly began looking through his pockets, finding and biting into a power bar. "Nope, not helping my migraine," he said around a mouthful of chocolate peanut butter. They entered the docking bay of the station.

"I'm going to have Miko and Strat take a look at the transporter room," he heard a slight gasp from the doctor in question and rolled his eyes. "Relax, you can examine it from outside. We need to find out if there's a way to reverse the process and bring you back into the station that way." He debarked from the Manta, walking at a fast clip back to the control room, computer under his arm. "Radek, how are things on your end?"

"I am making progress, but it will be a few minutes more before I have information."

"Right. We can't seem to find any consoles in the main control room that are linked to the escape systems. I don't know if that's simply a fail safe or just poor design on the ancient's part. There has to be an area on the station that controls them, so I'm going to have Mills and Thompkins start looking for that in a few minutes." He walked into the control room to have Mills meet his eyes and nod.

"Yeah well, the sooner the better," came Sheppard's still slightly tense drawl and it had Rodney pausing in mid stride, Rafat and Miko almost walked into him.

"What? Why? Is something wrong?"

"Other than being stuck in a small metal bubble?" Rodney thought about that for a moment.

"Yes!"

"Nah, we're fine. Ronon's just not a fan of sitting still and I have to go to the little colonel's room." Rodney rolled his eyes.

"I'm sure all that military training has taught you to endure such tortures, Colonel."

"Well yeah, but why suffer if you don't have to?"

"You'll manage. I'm going to head down to your location and see if there's a way to manually access the pod from this end. That or release the clamps."

"You sure that's wise?"

"Well, I won't do it until I'm sure, Colonel! Honestly, you people act like I do things without ever thinking it through."

"Well, there was that time you told Karly Cassaro she looked like-"

"We agreed to never bring that up again! Or are you forgetting the time you were stuck in the transporter with Lieutenant Bradly for three hours?"

"Point."

"Rodney?" Zelenka's voice cut through, not carrying any of his usual humour. Rodney felt a rock settle in his gut at the tone.

"What?"

"I have accessed environmental system. We have heat and air, but it is limited supply." Well, Rodney had figured that would be an issue, he just hoped it wouldn't be too serious. "We have three hours, twenty-seven minutes of air left."

"Are the heating and air systems working in conjunction?"

"No."

Well shit.

"Well, what's a little deadline to get the work done faster?" He winced, "bad choice of words."

"No kidding," was Sheppard's drawl.

"Right, well, Zelenka, see what you can do on your end and I'll get you guys out on mine. McKay out." He closed the connection and for a long minute he didn't move, breathing deeply.

"All right people, the situation has changed. You know what you need to do, so let's get to it."

"What about me?" Keagan asked, his hands twisting together.

"You will stay here and figure out if we can raise this station." He stepped close to the man, getting right into his personal space. "If Teyla tells you to stop, you stop. You will not initiate any systems without my specific permission and if you so much as think about over stepping your boundaries again I have given Teyla permission to shoot you. Trust me when I say she will know exactly when such an action will be necessary and she will follow through. Where she shoots you will be her choice. You understand me Keagan?"

"Yes sir," he snapped off, like a professional soldier. McKay nodded and stepped back, quickly grabbing his equipment and leaving for the pod his people were trapped in, Rafat falling in quick step beside him. He'd inform Elizabeth of the situation on the way.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Soooo," Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard leaned back in his seat and looked around at his companions, searching for something to say. "Here we are again." Ronon grunted from his left side, and he took that as agreement.

"Again? I am unaware of being in this situation before," Zelenka countered, gazing intently at the screen before him, the only steady light source in the small compartment.

"Well, I meant it in a more general sense, you know? Kind of like 'here we are again, about three hours away from certain death,' or 'here we are again on the brink of our imminent demise.'"

"Or 'here we are again, trapped by ancient technology that's trying to kill us,'" Ronon helped and John waved an encouraging hand at him.

"Yes, exactly," he agreed, satisfied. Zelenka and Kwong blinked at them.

"I have not yet been in this situation," he calmly informed him.

"This is also a first time for me," Kwong agreed.

"Oh, I don't believe that. You were both around for the Siege. And just a month ago you were on the bottom of the ocean with me pulling McKay out of the jumper on a time limit." He looked at Zelenka.

"Is not the same thing, I do not think."

"I suppose we all interpret things differently. I was just thinking it was a good thing I decided not to get a tattoo every time I survived a near death experience, otherwise I wouldn't have any bare skin left."

"Is that a tradition for your people?" Ronon asked.

"No. Well, some maybe. I suppose it's a personal preference."

"Is all the same that we do not have tattoo artist in Atlantis."

"Maybe you should get one," Ronon suggested.

"I must concentrate on systems now," Radek solemnly informed them and went back to work. They sat in silence, Sheppard taking sneak peaks at Kwong, who was beside Radek going through the systems, but blinking too often and squinting his eyes in concentration. He no doubt had a nasty headache from when they had been beamed in here. The explosion had jarred their pod before the inertial dampeners had initiated and, with the rocky failed release of the vehicle, he had smacked his head rather nicely against the back of his seat.

Ronon was sitting off to his side, eyes closed and breathing carefully, controlled. John hadn't been kidding when he'd said the Satedan was crawling the walls. The only reason he was being so still now was to try and conserve their limited air supply, but with the deep breathes he was taking Sheppard doubted his moving around or remaining still would make a difference.

"You okay, big guy?" The man in question opened his eyes and glared at John.

"Fine."

"Fine, that's good." He took the hint and shut up. It had been ten minutes since McKay had called them, since they had determined their timeframe. He entertained himself by locking his hands together and having thumbwars with himself. It was difficult to determine the victor.

Time passed, the lights flickered annoyingly and Zelenka cursed quietly.

This sucked.

"How're you guys holding up in there?" John jumped at the sudden intrusion into the silence and grasped at it with both hands, sore thumbs and all.

"Time of our lives, Rodney."

"Right, right," there was a grunt, and then the sound of something being dragged. "Well, I was just checking in." Oh, don't leave him in this silence!

"What's your status?" He asked, maybe a bit quickly as there was a pause that took a bit longer than usual from McKay's end.

"Well, Kusanagi and Strat have been able to access the transporter rooms systems and it looks like everything is functioning properly there. Actually, hold on a second. Kusanagi?"

"Yes, Dr. McKay?"

"Toss something you don't need into the room."

"Right away," a moment later a powerbar appeared on the floor at their feet in a brief flash of dramatic light.

"Hey, thanks Miko," John leaned forward and picked it up, handing it to Kwong, who looked like some food might help him feel better.

"You got it?" McKay asked.

"Yes, Rodney."

"Huh." There was another grunt before he continued. "Elizabeth has a few jumpers on standby and Keagan is looking into the raising procedures for this station. It looks like it will take at least two jumpers to help push this thing to the surface, and even then it will take a lot of power *grunt* so we'll probably have to have them change up during the process if we decide to go that route." There was a momentary pause and then Rodney was back, sounding a bit distracted. "Mills and Thompkins haven't found a room with the controls for the pods yet, but I have a sneaking suspicion that the room Keagan blew up was the one we need. They're headed there now *grunt* to check it out." A water canteen suddenly flashed into existence at their feet.

"Thanks, Miko," Sheppard said again.

"What? What did she do?" Rodney asked quickly.

"Relax, she just sent some water over."

"It is Dr. Strat's," she politely informed them.

"Well, that's very thoughtful," Rodney responded, sounding like he really didn't care one way or the other. There was another grunt, then a few more and then a few heavy breathes before his breathing went back to normal.

"Rodney?"

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Trying to save your lives," he snapped, tension underlying his sarcasm.

"You normally don't grunt so much."

"Yes well, I normally don't have to crawl through spaces smaller than my body mass at all sorts of odd angles. If I ever complain about Atlantis's inner workings being too cramped again just remind me of this place," he grunted. John had seen some of Atlantis's inner workings: Rodney must be in a very small space. Now that John understood the situation he recognized the slight tension in his friends voice. He was all too aware of McKay's lack of comfort in small places. "How's Ronon?"

"He's fine," Ronon growled.

"Oh, oh good. Because Sheppard said you were crawling the walls earlier. I figured you just didn't *grunt* care for small spaces.

"I'm not overly fond of them," he conceded and John looked over at Zelenka with slightly wide eyes. Huh, it looks like the two were going to try and comfort each other.

"Yeah, me neither." Well, at least they were trying, albeit awkwardly.

"Yeah," Ronon replied, and then looked at John as though asking for direction and he just shrugged.

"So…why don't you like small spaces, despite the obvious?" McKay asked.

"I just don't."

"Ah, I get it, you being a runner and all," the startled look that quickly crossed and disappeared from said Runner's face was testament enough to that fact.

"What about you?" Ronon asked, again awkwardly. Wow, what a time for team bonding.

"What about me?"

"Why do you get all panicky in tight places?"

"I don't get panicky! Have I sounded panicky to you at any point during our conversation here? No, not at all thank you very much Mr. Stoic."

"I wasn't trying to hurt you're feelings, McKay," Ronon grinned at Sheppard.

"As if you could you dreadlocked throwback! And for your information I have a perfectly good reason for being claustrophobic!"

"So what is it?"

"It…I was…high school!" He spit out after his uncharacteristically stammered starts. John frowned.

"High school?" Ronon asked.

"Yes yes, a place of attempted education and teenaged torture. I started high school at…a rather young age. Being stuffed into lockers my first few weeks there was pretty common place," he grunted and there was a prolonged dragging sound and then a thump. "I stayed late one night to study at the library, which was the only good thing about that place, and the football team had had a late practice." John didn't like where this was going. "To make a long story short I was unceremoniously stuffed into one in a wing the janitor had already cleaned for the night. I was stuck in there until the next morning. It took two hours for my legs to function fully again and I had to piss like a race horse. Needless to say I'd decided home schooling was a better path for my already developed genius."

"And that made you afraid of small spaces?"

"Of course it did! Isn't that enough? What else would make me fear-" he cut off abruptly.

"McKay?"

"Yes, Colonel?" he sounded cooler now, a bit more distant. He'd been like this off and on since…since he had walked in on Weir giving him and Carson the classified file on him. Shit.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm heading over to one of the empty pods now, I'm going to try and release the clamps manually on that one and see what happens. I'll contact you when it's finished. If you need anything, ask Dr. Strat." He disconnected and Ronon looked over at him.

"Was it something I said?"

"No, it wasn't." He sighed and rubbed at his eyes.

"When this is over, you will talk to him about whatever it is that has you both like bowstrings. Is not healthy," Zelenka said, he gazed intently at John until he nodded and muttered an agreement. They were all silent a moment.

"What's a locker?

* * * * * * * * * *


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

In all her years in the military and as a soldier first at Stargate command and then in Atlantis, Rafat still found herself startled when the shit hit the fan. She was highly trained and had a strong background in political science on top of speaking several languages. She had been in the top of her class, and the pressure to perform to the highest standard had been thrust on her shoulders since she was nine years old and her mother had died, leaving her to raise her two brothers and sister while their father worked two full time jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food on their plates. She understood what it was like to have everyone look to her for answers, be it family, friends, or fellow soldiers when their leader was killed and there was too much shit going on for anyone else to step up to the plate.

Sometimes, when she watched Rodney McKay in crises, she felt like an amateur.

He hadn't stopped moving since the explosion, talking almost continuously into his radio as he directed his people, kept Atlantis apprised of the situation and checked in with Sheppard and Zelenka. He had pulled a maintenance panel off the wall and disappeared into a space so small she had begun pre-planning ways to get him out of the wall before he was even fully in it. He had pulled himself back out with small spots of dust stuck to his clothes and a cut bleeding freely on his jaw just under his right ear. He hadn't noticed the blood yet even though he absently wiped it away on his shoulder. A few minutes later he was prying off a different panel, and looking at the space behind it with great distaste before huffing in irritation at himself and squirming in. There were a lot of wires and pipe-like things that glowed in there and he disappeared around a bend only a few feet in.

She did not like it when he disappeared on her.

"Dr. McKay?"

"Busy," he snapped and grunted and she glared at where she had last seen him.

"Please keep me appraised of your status," she requested (ordered) politely. "Do you require assistance?"

"Please, I'm busy enough without having to tell you what to do and there is only room in here for one. This station must have been designed by the smallest Ancients in their entire civilization." There was silence for a few minutes as he worked. Background chatter occasionally filtered through the radio from others discussing their progress. When he spoke again he sounded anxious.

"All right, I'm ready to manually release this escape pod. I've isolated the system so the commands will only affect this unit…just in case it doesn't work…"

"Just do the test, Rodney," Zelenka's accent filtered through the system.

"Right, okay. Prepare for the test on my mark," he waited a moment for any objections. "Three, two, one, mark." Rafat held her breath and looked around at the walls suspiciously before realizing what she was doing and returning to stare at the maintenance hatch again. "Are you guys reading anything?"

"There was a slight power fluctuation in your area, but nothing else. What did you do?" Mills asked.

"I tried inputting direct commands to the pods primary and secondary control units…at least I thought I had. But now that I'm looking at it, these might not be linked up the way I thought. Hold on," there were another few minutes of silence.

"Any day, Rodney," Sheppard drawled lazily in her ear and she automatically stood straighter.

"I'm working as fast as I can. If you have a problem with this maybe you should stop getting into these situations, hmmm?"

"Just do your test, Rodney." Sheppard didn't sound too happy and McKay's lack of response spoke volumes about his feelings on the subject. It was a few minutes before the Doctor spoke again.

"Okay, prepare for the test in three, two, one, mark." She heard a faint clicking sound for a few seconds and then nothing.

"The pod looks like it shifted a bit, but that's…wait, there's something wrong with…the latch on its roof has just opened and released all atmosphere into the water." There was a moment's silence.

"Right, well, it looks like the docking clamps, or whatever they are, are connected to the pods release systems. Great, this'll take hours *grunt* to decipher."

"We do not have that time" Zelenka kindly informed them all and Rafat blinked in response. Hard. Her head hurt and all she had to do was protect McKay.

"Yeah, because I had forgotten that aspect of this entire fiasco. It's a good thing I have you around to remind me about these things," McKay growled back. She saw movement a few feet away, a hand appeared and then McKay as he literally pulled himself towards her using the pipes in the walls. When he squirmed out of the wall he braced his hands on the floor and just kind of fell out, despite her attempts at helping. It was kind of what she pictured a machine giving birth might look like, if in a highly disturbing and not very abstract way. He stood quickly and she saw that he had a transparent red liquid soaking through the left shoulder and arm of his uniform. He saw her looking.

"I cut the connectors and there was no room to duck out of the way," he explained in a huff and began heading back to the control room, staring hard at the floor as he walked, his eyes pinched in concentration before he frowned and slapped his radio on.

"McKay to Atlantis."

"This is Weir."

"We've been unable to locate a control room for the pods. Mills thinks it may have been in the room that exploded, but there's no power running there any more and what we need to work with is probably disintegrated anyway," he shook his head angrily. "Manually releasing the clamps didn't work, so we're going to have to try raising the station so we can cut them out on the surface."

"What do you need?"

"A minimum of three jumpers. We're going to have to situate them just underneath the failed engine and they can replace it, hopefully."

"Are you sure that will work?"

"No, but it's the best idea we have in the timeframe we've been given, even if it is Sheppard's idea."

"Hey!"

"All right, I'm sending them to you now. They should be there in twenty minutes."

"Good, we'll need that time to prepare the stations systems, maybe more. McKay out." He stormed into the control room and Rafat noticed everyone stop and stare at him a moment…except Mills, who never seemed phased by anything. McKay noticed the looks.

"What?"

"You're bleeding," Strat pointed at his chin and McKay frowned, reaching up to wipe at said spot, only to reopen the small wound.

"Great," he turned to glare at her, "you couldn't have mentioned this? I could have bled to death!"

"It's a paper cut, McKay," she soothed.

"Those can be serious!"

"What's on your jacket?" Keagan asked and then quickly looked back to his work when Rodney looked his way.

"Do I look like a chemist to you?"

"We have not yet run across a fluid of such physical characteristics on Atlantis," Miko pointed out and Rodney suddenly paled and began flailing around as he unzipped and then pulled off the offending garment, throwing it in disgust across the room.

"There, it's off. Can we focus now, please? We need to have this thing ready for lift off in twenty minutes," and they were off. Rafat joined Thompkins off by the door, Teyla remaining close to Keagan and watching his every move. Rodney wiped at the nervous sweat on his brow and looked a little paler. She really hoped that this worked.

* * * * * * * * * *

Time was running out. Quickly. A lot faster than Strat had expected it could under such circumstances. He had followed Dr. McKay's instructions and followed Dr. Kusanagi to the transporter area where they had examined everything they could again. She was every bit as good as McKay's performance reviews had stated and it hadn't taken long for her (with his aid) to determine that there was nothing that could be done from there. Well, nothing except send some supplies to the trapped individuals.

He was thirsty, but not thirsty enough to withhold it from those with greater need.

They had left shortly after that, determining that there was more to be done in the control room and had been helping Keagan look for information on how to control the ships navigation. He kept looking at his watch every few minutes, watching as the time ticked by and was shocked when he realized it had been almost an hour since the time frame had been declared. An hour less that those four people had to live. He felt the pressure keenly, as did everyone around him as they babbled ideas back and fourth and shared whatever information they could find.

"Aha!" Keagan yelled out and bent over his counsel in concentration. Teyla Emmagen peered keenly over his shoulder as the man worked, her brows furrowed in concentration. Thompkins stood tensely by the door, looking as intimidating as a man possibly could while not directly aiming a weapon at someone and Strat was just grateful it wasn't him that the marine was pissed at.

"What did you find?" Dr. Mills demanded.

"Everything we need to know about driving this station. I'm sending you the information now." There was a moment's silence.

"I have it," Mills stood straighter and shook his head. "This might work," he declared.

"Yes," Dr. Kusanagi pushed her glasses higher on her nose, "if all systems still function as they were meant to function and the engines have enough power, then it should work."

"Well, that's good, right?" Strat asked as neither of them had sounded overly enthusiastic.

"Yes, if it works," Kusanagi informed him softly. She issued instructions for him to begin scanning the power fluctuations as they began rerouting engine controls from 'cruise control' to manual. Then McKay came barging in and Strat stared in shock. What the hell had happened to him! He had blood running down the side of his face and was covered in a red substance in a most undignified manner.

It took a few minutes for him to toss aside the jacket and wipe ineffectively at his chin before he hunkered down and began going through the information they had been organizing for him. He nodded in satisfaction.

"Okay, listen up people, the jumpers are ten minutes out, and when they get here it's going to take approximately seven minutes to get them into position under the third aft engine. I am putting everyone, including you people," he waved a hand at the soldiers, "on engine duty. I need you to watch the power, pressure, and the rate of ascent of your engine at all times. If _one_ of these engines is over stressed it could fail and we don't have enough jumpers or time to compensate for its loss. Understood?" There were nods all around. "Good. We have," he looked at his watch, "two hours and three minutes to make this happen people, so let's not screw it up."

As far as inspirational speeches went…it left Strat feeling terrified, and McKay didn't seem phased in the least as he stormed around, punching at consoles and computers, consulting heavily with Mills and Kusanagi. _Just another day at the office,_ he thought with a little twang in his stomach. Jesus, and he had thought assessing people on desert planets for half a day had been tough. With all his experience he had never actually been in any dangerous situations. He really hadn't imagined how intense real life and death situations could be. His respect for leaders across the program had jumped a few notches from where it had been that morning.

"Strat!"

"Yes!" he snapped to attention as McKay called on him.

"You're at this computer. Thompkins, you're at this one. Strat, show him what he needs to know," and he was off to the other side of the room again.

"Dr. McKay, this is Jumper three arriving at your forward aft," a new person said in his ear and Strat paused in his instructions to listen.

"Jumper six is here as well, sir."

"Jumper two is on scene."

"Right, right, good. Jumper three, you're lead ship."

"Copy that."

"Okay, we're still setting up here, but you can get into position at the coordinates Kusanagi sent you." There was a chorus of 'yes sirs' and they were off, Jumper two taking its place nearby as back-up. Rodney moved twice as fast around the room for a few more minutes until he just stopped and looked around, silently ticking things off on his fingers and muttering under his breath. "Okay," he announced, "okay, we're ready. Any questions before we do this? No? None? All right. Zelenka," he barked into his radio.

"I am here."

"Of course you are. How are you all doing?"

"Just fine, this is like vacation," was the dry response. McKay had walked into that one.

"Right. We're ready to proceed. It should take about half an hour, maybe more to reach the surface, that'll give us just under an hour and a half to cut you out of there. I want you to update me every five minutes on your status. Clear?"

"Understood."

"Jumpers, are you in position?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, on the five count we're going to initiate the engines, you know what to do. Five, four, three, two, one, initiating." There was a low level rumble that carried throughout the room and, as far as Strat knew, the entire station. The floor began to vibrate beneath his feet and his hands could feel the tremors in the console before him. He held his breath and stared at the readings on his computer, watching as they fluctuated up to 4.7 bars and then held. Good, that was good, now all it had to do was stay between 4.6 and 4.9 and they should be okay. McKay let out a huff of breath.

"This is good, this is going well…any problems?" No one responded. "That's great. McKay to Jumper 3, how are things on your end?"

"It took a lot of power when we took the initial weight, but we're rising steadily now. Friction between the two shields is minimal and there's not a lot of slip, but we need to keep an eye on that to maintain proper traction. Other than that everything is going to plan."

"All right, then let's keep it that way. Nobody takes their eyes off their screen until I say so." And they didn't, at least Strat didn't, far too worried that he would screw it up and this would go horribly wrong. He could hear McKay jumping around still, as he hadn't assigned himself to a computer, and continuously checking in with the jumpers and the pod. The minutes ticked by, his bar dropped to 4.6 for a second and he tensed up, ready to yell it out, when it went to 4.8 and remained there, thank god.

"This might take a little longer than anticipated," Mills spoke up.

"Yeah, about ten minutes or so," McKay agreed. "Zelenka, we should be at the surface in about ten minutes, how are you holding up?"

"Things are fine here, though my right cheek is numb from vibrations…"

"Too much information!" McKay snapped, though his tone did seem a little less tense.

"Is fact, you said keep you updated on all-"

"Yes, well, I'm sure you can figure out where to draw the line," Rodney moved to look over Strat's shoulder briefly.

"Yes, of course, because _I_ am one who needs to look out for what I say."

"If you are ever in charge of this outfit, you can remove whatever verbal filters you think you have, but until then-"

"Engine one is dropping below bar!" Thompkins snapped and Rodney was between them in a second. He looked at the readings and frowned.

"Oh, no no no…this isn't good. The engine is failing, Jumper two! Move to Engine five and try to support it!"

"Engine three is losing power," Kusanagi yelled and Rodney dove for the main controls, frantically re-entering commands and halting the entire stations ascent, and then looking carefully at the readings.

"Jumper two is in position."

"Maintain your position as support. All Jumpers halt. We are no longer ascending to the surface, maintain your positions as support, over."

"Copy that."

"Roger, holding."

"Okay, okay, this is not so good." McKay sighed out loud and rubbed a hand over his mouth, thinking furiously.

"Engine three is able to maintain this depth, but it cannot aid in surfacing the station," Miko's soft voice carried through the room and he acknowledged her with a tight nod.

"How are the other engines?" McKay checked the readings again. With Engine three and one only able to maintain the current depth they weren't going to raise the station any higher, even with the aid of all the jumpers in their arsenal.

Damn it! He'd been afraid this would happen, but he hadn't wanted to linger on doubts. It had been their best option and now it was gone. Maybe they could place a small, private force field around the pod…but there would be no way to drain it. Just around the hatch then! No, no that would so not work. He looked up to find the others in the room watching him, waiting for direction, for something to do to help, for hope.

"McKay, what's going on?" Sheppard chose that moment to cut into his thoughts. Why did the man always want answers at the worst possible time!

"It didn't work. I'm a little busy right now, trying to come up with an alternative plan!" He snapped.

There was a pause.

"Knock yourself out, McKay."

"Thank you," he groaned and looked around the group, watching them check their readings. He could practically see their minds trying to come up with some solution to this and he really, really hoped they could because he had nothing. A big, fat, ultimately defeating nothing. "I'll be back," he growled and stomped out of the room. He couldn't think with them around, he just couldn't concentrate.

He stormed two corridors over and began to pace the hall, ignoring the Sergeant as she dutifully parked herself out of his way, silent vigilance to his complete lack of ideas. He paced for a good ten minutes, tossing out one idea after the other, all things he'd already thought of. He kept coming back to the 'mother pod' but there was nothing he could do from here. They hadn't been able to access it from anywhere in the station. This was just…just…

"How's it going, Rodney?" Sheppard's voice, calm and collected, broke into his thoughts again, but instead of getting angry this time he just felt…he didn't even know where to begin.

"I'm still thinking, Colonel."

"Well, that's good..."

"I suppose. I have some air tanks on their way here that we'll send through in about ten minutes, that should give us another half hour or so to work with," he tried to sound upbeat.

"Well see, that's a good idea, you could send a couple extras and we could last even longer," came the confident reply and he didn't correct his friend. Zelenka had informed them that the power for the heating systems was depleting almost as fast as the air. They would probably freeze to death before they could use a second cylinder. Zelenka remained ominously silent.

"Right," Rodney muttered, just to fill the silence. He looked at his watch: an hour and four minutes left, plus the extra air gave him one hour and approximately thirty minutes to get them out of there.

"Dr. McKay, Jumper four is above your location.

"Right. Rafat, take the Manta and get those cylinders. It'll take too long to reconfigure the shields to let a jumper through."

"Yes, sir," she nodded and left the hallway. He listened to her retreating footsteps and leaned against the wall, sliding slowly to the floor.

"Sheppard, those extra tanks will be in your hands shortly. In the mean time, I'm going to come up with a way to get you out, so you can all sit tight and discuss ways to thank me once your out."

"Ohhh, trust me Rodney, we've already been doing that," and Rodney snorted at the friendly threat.

"I'll bet you have, McKay out." He thumped his head against the wall, and then refrained from doing so again because ow. There had to be _something_! Damned ancients and their damned emergency systems that were wired up in the _stupidest_ possible way! Honest to god, for such an advanced and intelligent race they had some boneheaded designs. But he couldn't think of that right now, because John and Radek and Ronon and Chu were going to die because he couldn't think…and that was…that was just…it wasn't going to happen. Not on his watch! He was getting them out of there because anything else was simply unacceptable! Too many people had died and he wasn't losing them! Not them! Not his friends. He just…couldn't.

"McKay?" He looked up to find Thompkins standing at the bend in the corridor, looking at him with a closed expression. Rodney looked back at him and waited, but the soldier didn't continue so he rolled his eyes and gave the obligatory answer.

"What?" Thompkins merely watched him for a moment before slowly moving to join him on the floor.

"Catching your breath?"

"It's necessary sometimes."

"I hear that."

"Is this the part where you tell me everything will be okay? That I'll come up with something at the last minute like I always do? Because I gotta tell you, I've got nothing."

"Come on McKay, you know me; I suck at that supportive crap," and Rodney huffed in acknowledgment, the left side of his mouth curling up slightly.

"You're telling me. I think the most supportive thing you said to me when we met, and until I was released from your clutches was, "I believe you." That got me through the first night."

"Hey, it's not like you cared to hear anything else I had to say."

"Maybe if you had said something worth listening to…"

"Maybe if you had stopped talking long enough to allow me to get a word in edge wise."

"I doubt that would have helped your case," Rodney sighed and leaned his head back, closing his eyes, now trying to forget the past as well as worry about the present. Comforting words his ass. They spent a few moments in silence and all Rodney could think was _wasting time wasting time wasting time_. He could hear Thompkins rubbing a hand over his short, frizzy curls.

"You know," he said and Rodney bit back a groan, not wanting to hear where this was going, "I like Sheppard for the most part."

"Everybody does."

"Yeah, I get that. I don't think he's overly keen on me." Rodney really didn't have anything to say to that, so he raised his eyebrow. "Oh, don't get me wrong, he's been very professional, very conversational…he's a good guy, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why I just seemed to rub him the wrong way."

"Don't take it personally, he's just like that sometimes."

"I didn't, I don't really care either way. I'm not here to impress people."

"Is there a point to this?"

"The point is that I figured out why he didn't like me.

"Oh, this is going to be good."

"It's because of you."

"Huh?"

"I think he somehow got it into his head that because I knew something about you that he didn't, you would declare me the closer friend. He was jealous."

"Oh please, that's just ridiculous! Are you still stuck in eighth grade?"

"No, I'm serious."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because most people don't care about things like that unless it really means something. He really values your friendship." He looked over his shoulder and Rodney. "He trusts you, Rodney."

"Yeah well, fat lot of good that's doing him now," he swallowed the lump in his throat. He did not want to talk about this. Whatever happened to manly, military silence?

"What I'm trying to say, is that he knows you're going to do everything you can to help them, and in the end that's all that really matters to him. We all knew what we were getting into when we joined this program."

"I highly doubt that," Rodney sighed. "Thanks for the support though." Thompkins shrugged beside him and they both rose to their feet, where he resumed pacing. He looked at his watch and swallowed thickly. He needed to gain access to the main control pod and that wasn't going to happen until he was the last person on the station! The last…person. On. The station! He snapped his fingers in quick succession.

"That's it!" he looked at Thompkins and grinned.

"What?"

"I know what to do!" and he twisted on his feet and ran back to the control room. "I have a plan!" He announced and rushed to the console he needed.

"What is it?" Mills asked sharply and Rodney opened his mouth, and then hesitated a moment before answering.

"It's too complicated to explain," he declared and bent over his work. "I don't have a lot of time here, so silence would be appreciated."

"But we could help if…"

"Ah ah, did you not listen to anything I just said?" He typed furiously. "Too complicated to explain in such a short amount of time. Genius here, let me work!" He snapped and then dropped to his knees, prying open the panel and quickly beginning to switch around crystals. He heard Sergeant Rafat return, and listened in as she sent the air tanks and regulators to them. It took fifteen minutes to reconfigure what he needed and he took another minute to verify that he had done everything right. His hands were shaking as he closed the panel and stood, finding Miko and Mills behind him, trying to see what he had done.

"Now you can explain, yes?" Miko asked, her brown eyes imploring behind her too large glasses.

"Yes, yes, but first, I need my computer," he disconnected it from the console, "and that bag of connectors and tools," he snapped his fingers and Keagan jumped to get it for him as he grabbed his scanner off the near by table and then threw his flak vest over one shoulder for good measure. He always kept tools in it that he might need. He looked around at them. "Stay here, I need to go check on something. If I'm right and my changes worked then I should be able to help them," he declared and then walked quickly from the room, leaving them in complete bafflement. He heard steps behind him and turned to see Sergeant Rafat tailing him again. Great. He nodded at her and then focused on his destination.

"Hey, McKay?" Sheppard's' voice erupted in his ear.

"I'm a bit busy at the moment, Colonel."

"Yeah I know, with this new plan of yours that you haven't explained to anyone," he shot back and Rodney frowned.

"You know, a little appreciation for the effort I'm going to here wouldn't be too out of place."

"I'll appreciate it once I know what's going on."

"Don't worry Colonel, you'll know soon enough." There was no response for a minute and then John was back, but he sounded quieter, calmer and way too sincere.

"Listen Rodney, I know you're doing everything you can over there," Rodney rolled his eyes, because of course he was. Didn't he always? "But you should know that if we don't get out of here…it's not your fault." Rodney stumbled slightly and he clenched his jaw tight before giving the response that was expected of him, the one that didn't really mean anything.

"Of course it isn't. If the ancients had just designed systems with even an inkling of logic then we would never have any of these issues," he huffed, trying to sound indignant. It might have come across a little weak.

"I mean it, Rodney, we all do. This is not your fault."

"Yes, thank you for reiterating what I already know."

"Great. Now what are you going to do?" He took a sharp left and saw the gaping entrance way to the transporter room that started this whole disaster.

"You know that Hail Mary you're always going on about?"

"Rodney, I don't like the sound of that…"

"Well Colonel, from now on it's going to be known as the Hail McKay." He heard Rafat pick up the pace behind him as she registered what he said and he sent a silent apology her way as he rushed straight into the transporter room and disappeared.

* * * * * * * * * *


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

It was seriously disconcerting to be rushing through a doorway one moment and to a fully seated position the next. Rodney blinked and swallowed thickly as the short bout of dizziness left him. He noticed several things at once, the most prominent being that it was _cold, cold, really really cold._ All of the lights were functioning, if a bit lacking in luster, his equipment appeared to be piled in the center of the room, and there was an urgent voice yammering away in his ear. So far, so good.

He wasn't strapped in like Zelenka had reported them being so he stood up immediately and put on his tack vest, still feeling a bit dazed. He ignored the voices, wanting to make sure everything was okay first, as it would only take a few seconds. There were three seats evenly spaced in the small area and between each was a console with blinking lights and screens with ancient wording displayed. The walls were very close. Too close really as he had to duck his head slightly to avoid smacking into the rounded ceiling.

He stood still a moment, forcing a few deep, cold breaths into his lungs. This wasn't at all like the jumper last month. Completely different in fact. That's right, nothing to worry about here. He took a moment to be thankful he was still alive and then got to work, finally focusing on the frantic voice in the radio.

"McKay! McKay, answer me, god damn it! Rodney!"

"I'm here, Colonel, relax."

"Relax! You relax! What the hell were you thinking just running into that damn room!"

"Oh I don't know, how about 'it's time I saved some lives today!" He snapped back, flipping his computer open while scanning the few unhelpful words on the Ancient display nearest him.

"Do you have any idea how _lucky_ you are that there's even breathable atmosphere in there?!" Sheppard sounded furious and Rodney didn't care in the least.

"No, I had no idea, I had only received one PhD and Masters by the time I was twenty so simple matters like 'could die or could not die' are a little beyond my intelligence." There was a long stretch of silence.

"McKay?" Sergeant Rafat's sun kissed voice filtered into his ear, and now he did grimace.

"Yes?"

"When this is over, you and I are going to have words."

"Oh please, can we save the threats and melodrama for later? I have work to do," he was already hooking up to the main systems. Why wasn't it getting any warmer in here? Hadn't Zelenka said their pod had started heating up almost immediately?

"Where are you? The Mother Pod?" Radek asked, bringing order to the conversation, thankfully. Rodney refocused, rubbing his already cold hands together before going back to work.

"Yeah, I reprogrammed the stations sensors to believe that there was only one person left on the station."

"How did you get the system to recognize only yourself?"

"I didn't, that would have taken too long. I just convinced it that the next person to walk through the transport room was the last and all other readings were faulty."

"What are you planning to do?" Rodney rolled his eyes at the question; wasn't it obvious? Maybe Zelenka was the one with the head trauma.

"From what we've been able to determine, this escape vessel is connected to all the other vessels, as well as their entry and egress. I should be able to find a way to convince the pods transport system that the station is safe and therefore put you back."

"You _should_ be able to find a way?" Sheppard was once again on the line.

"That's what I said. Have Zelenka explain this to you if it's too complicated, I have to get to work." He blew hot air into his hands. Why was it still so cold? He quickly located the environmental systems.

"You risked your life on a _possible _solution? You aren't even sure that this will work?" There was anger under Sheppard's inquiry and Rodney did his best to not look too deep into it. He needed to focus.

"It has a relatively high possibility of working."

"You are _not expendable,_ McKay!"

"Well neither are any of YOU!" he yelled back and smacked his hand against the wall, ignoring the pain and hoping they could hear it. He forced himself to take a calming breath, and then another. Nobody ever got him as angry as quickly as Sheppard!

"Rodney…"

"Now is not the time, Colonel," and the heating system was barely operational. Great. "I have an hour and ten minutes to get you people out of there so I need to concentrate now. Kusanagi?"

"Yes, Dr. McKay?"

"What's the status of the engines?"

"Nothing has changed."

"Okay, good. I want you to have all non-critical personnel moving all equipment not immediately being used back to the Manta. Make sure the two computers with the stations downloads are in there."

"Yes, Dr. McKay."

"You're in charge on that end, understood?"

"Yes, Doctor."

"Keep me updated."

"Understood."

"Good. Keagan?"

"Yes?"

"Teyla's watching you," he threatened, and smiled grimly as the man stuttered that he understood. Right. It was practically freezing and these systems were not in any real order. This was going to take all his concentration.

* * * * * * * * * *

Sheppard crossed his arms over his chest and sat glaring moodily at the wall just above Radek's head. He was furious, no he was beyond that, he was pissed, outraged, he was freaking molten he was so angry with McKay. The real kicker was he didn't know exactly why he should be so mad about it, he just was. He turned his glare on Zelenka, who blinked owlishly at him from behind his spectacles and then shook his head.

"Do not glare at me, he is your team mate."

"Yeah, and he's your boss."

"And you think this means I have some kind of control over him?"

"You're his right hand man, of course you do."

"I am flattered, but we all know that when Rodney wants to do something that is final." John bit his cheek in frustration. He bowed his head in apology for the small outburst, which Radek just rolled his eyes at. It had only been five minutes since Rodney's little sprint into the transporter which had left Sergeant Rafat using some very unladylike language as she tried to contact him and then appraised everyone of the situation. John had not been blind to Radek's suddenly marble white complexion or the sharp intake of air from Kwong and that had been what fuelled his anger. Maybe now he should understand why.

"So, just how mad should I be at him?"

"That depends, are we imagining we survive or do not survive in this scenario?" Zelenka implored, and then sighed when John only glared. Ronon shifted restlessly in his own seat. "We are working mostly on theory that the 'mother pod' will have systems necessary for controlling all aspects of emergency system."

"Didn't you already know this?"

"The information Mills found in stations database does support this yes, but not completely. It referenced that there are controls within the one escape vessel that connect all vessels, but not the extent of what such controls do. Rodney is working off of our beliefs that it can control entire system and not simply life support and communications."

"So he really didn't know whether or not running into that room would be able to help us."

"He suspected it would, which is usually enough for Rodney."

Jesus, Sheppard thought. Rodney really had considered himself expendable here. He rubbed hard at his eyes. Things must have been a bit more desperate than they realized if Rodney was going to risk his life that quickly for them. Anything could have happened to him once he went into that room: he could have been sent to the wrong pod, there could have been no air, it could have been flooded, it could have been out of power (which he assumed it wasn't since there were no complaints of imminent death yet), its rematerializing thingy might not have worked, he could have hurt himself like Kwong…the list just went on. Sheppard knew how lucky they were that they hadn't all been killed when transported here in the first place.

Hail McKay, indeed.

"What can we expect?" He asked, not knowing he if he really wanted an answer.

"Expect anything, Colonel. If we were in sports, this could be called sudden death overtime."

"Great." And they lapsed into relative silence with the two scientists hunched over their little piece of technology, still trying to decipher it. Sheppard really wished he had something to do.

Minutes ticked by and he repeatedly looked between his oversized watch and the four air cylinders and regulators sitting at their feet. There was occasional communication between Rodney and Miko about the status of the station but nothing more. He waited until there was about half an hour of the vessels air left before caving in and calling Rodney for an update. Because they had a right to know, too. He tapped his radio.

"McKay?" he waited a moment, and then another.

"Yeah?"

"How's the situation?"

"The programming matches the rest of this station, which means it's ridiculously unorganized and brain numbing, but I think I've figured it out." He was speaking a little slower than usual, but Sheppard figured he was just concentrating really hard. He imagined him waving his hands about as he explained, even though nobody was there to see him.

"That's good news."

"Yes, it…it is. Very good. Now be quiet." Sheppard frowned at the uncharacteristic stutter.

"Everything okay over there?"

"Things are wonderful, this is like a day on the beach. Now give me a few more minutes."

"Dr. McKay?" Kusanagi suddenly cut in, not sounding too happy.

"What is it?"

"Engines one and three are beginning to lose power. The Jumpers will not be able to compensate for very long, it is too heavy."

"How much time before they fail completely?"

"I don't know…"

"Give me a ball park!"

"Fifteen, maybe twenty minutes more, at the most," she rushed and Sheppard frowned, the knot of worry in his stomach tightening.

"Okay. I want everyone who doesn't need to be here to get to the Manta. Rafat will take them to the jumper waiting on the surface. Make it quick people, we don't have a lot of time."

"Everyone who Dr. Kusanagi decides is not essential from this point forward will evacuate as directed," he backed McKay's order up, just to ensure that all military personnel did as they were told. There was a chorus of 'yes sirs,' though they did not sound overly happy about it. The radio was silent for a few more minutes and then Kusanagi was back, informing them that the Manta was on its way. Now all Sheppard had to do was sit tight and wait for the next thing to go wrong.

* * * * * * * * * *

Teyla listened as Dr. Kusanagi quietly told everyone to head to the Manta for immediate evacuation, barely looking up from her computer screen. Dr. Mills did not look too pleased with being sent away.

"Dr. Kusanagi, I can help…"

"Yes, but there is nothing more we can do but monitor the systems and only one person needs to do so. Please do not hinder the situation," her hands were shaking slightly but her voice was firm as she looked up. Mills nodded and turned quickly with no further argument. Teyla watched as everyone except Miko and Thompkins headed towards the door, and she moved quickly to the tall soldier's side.

"You must go with them," she said, not unkindly but not leaving much room for argument. He looked down at her, his face the blank steely wall that so many soldiers had learned to adapt to in times of crises.

"You might need my help," he said, not backing down and she shook her head.

"There are no reports of serious injury. If they make it out they will not need aid to move. You must return to the surface with the rest as ordered."

"I have a responsibility," he stated, looking down at her and she shook her head.

"And you have fulfilled it, his responsibility is no longer yours, it is his teams, his peoples. You must go. Now." He looked like he wanted to argue again and she understood, she truly did, but this was not his place. He seemed to realize that a moment later and nodded sharply, before turning and running from the room to catch up to the others. She looked over at Dr. Kusanagi and nodded when the petite woman met her gaze. They could not do anything more at the moment.

The last few hours had been frustrating beyond words for Teyla. She was a woman of action, she was accustomed to being involved in the decisions and trials with her team, not on the side lines. She had been feeling crippled as one bad situation had jumped to another and there was still nothing for her to do. She should be on the Manta with the rest, but she would not leave them now. She needed to be here for them, no matter what happened. Dr. Kusanagi had not even suggested that she leave. She was a wise woman.

"This is Manta, I am re-entering the station," Sergeant Rafat's voice cut into the tense silence of the room.

"Okay, thank you," the Doctor responded, frowned and then tapped her radio once again. "Dr. McKay, engine one is failing and engine four is beginning to lose power."

"Okay, okay! I'll be ready in minute." Teyla looked over at Kusanagi, who was staring wide eyed at her computer, nodded at her, and then left the control room for the transporter room without another word. She listened intently to the radio conversation

"This is Jumper five, our engines are not going to be able to maintain this position for much longer," they warned.

"Dr. McKay, engine two is overcompensating for the failed engines. It is building up too much power…"

"Okay, I think I'm ready! Hold on!" He ordered and she saw a flash of light as she approached the door. She looked in to see the four men quickly pulling the breathing regulators from their mouths and standing up from the floor. Ronon reached down and hauled Kwong to his feet, who was looking a little sick, and began dragging him bodily from the room. The others followed quickly, looking relieved.

"Teyla," Sheppard greeted, not at all surprised to see her.

"Colonel," she responded.

"Hello? Did it work? Did it work! People, I need to know!" Rodney hissed harshly into their ears.

"We're all here and okay. You did it Rodney," Sheppard grinned, and then the station began vibrating beneath their feet in a slightly alarming manner. Her team leader looked at Ronon sharply. "Get them to the Manta!"

"Dr. McKay, engine two has exploded!" Dr. Kusanagi's not so calm voice came over the radio. "We are taking on water and the other engines are failing."

"This is Jumper three. The jumpers can not maintain their positions, I repeat the Jumpers can not maintain their positions!"

"Miko!" Rodney ordered. "Get to the Manta now! Same with everyone else!"

"What the hell are you doing in there, McKay! Get out here!" Sheppard hollered into his mike, looking anxiously into the transporter room.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! You think this is easy? I have to switch the…things to the place and…shit…all right-" he cut off abruptly and there was a brief flash of light and then Rodney was stumbling towards them stiffly, looking too pale. Teyla reached out for him and grasped his arm as he came through the door. John did the same.

"Christ, McKay! You're an ice cube!" His flesh was cold enough that she almost released his arm in shock. He was shivering almost uncontrollably, which she decided was good because it meant he hadn't become life threateningly hypothermic yet.

"My heater w-wasn't working," he spit out between clenched teeth as she drew his arm over her shoulder, cringing as his skin met the back of her neck. The floor was beginning to vibrate more and she noted in alarm that it was also beginning to tilt. This was not a good sign.

"We must go," she demanded and began hauling them both down the hall a few steps until Sheppard overcame his shock at Rodney's situation and followed suit by dragging the scientist's other arm over his shoulder and helping him along. The direction they were headed was fortunately following the downward tilt of the station, which made it easier than if they had been forced to climb upgrade instead.

"Where are you guys!" Ronon growled menacingly in her ear and she squeezed Rodney's wrist tighter.

"We're coming!" Sheppard yelled back and the floor tilted more. She began finding it difficult to stay upright while supporting her friend at this angle. He seemed to realize this and adjusted his grip.

"All that and I'm still going to die," he muttered under his breath and she couldn't help responding with a small smile at the expected remark.

"Put a lid on it Rodney, we're not dead yet," Sheppard growled. The ground began to shake more enthusiastically beneath their scrambling feet. "That can't be good."

"You think!" Rodney spat back and tried to increase his pace even more. He was moving a little less stiffly now, but she knew what a motivator death could be. She saw the doors to the docking station ahead.

"We are almost there," she declared as they rushed down the floor, almost losing their feet several times. She suddenly realized they wouldn't be able to stop as they came upon the door at the same time her friends did.

"Oh, we're gonna crash, gonna crash!" Rodney yelled in panic.

"Open open open!" Sheppard demanded and, true to the ancient gene, the door began to slide open. She didn't think it was going to be fast enough even as they tried to slow. She went through, her shoulder barely brushing the metal frame, but she heard a heavy smacking sound coming from Sheppard, as Rodney jerked back a bit to compensate. Her eyes widened as she took in the fact that, with the entire station tilted at this angle, the water had come up to cover half the floor. The Manta sat with its door open just above the water line, five meters from where the floor met the water. Ronon was standing in the doorway with a pale scientist just behind his shoulder.

"Hurry up!" He yelled at them as they angled in that direction, the floor almost too steep now and then one of them, she didn't know who, stumbled, and they all went down in a pile of flailing limbs, crashing into each other and scraping across the floor until they crashed into the water. She gasped, it was so cold, but managed to keep her face out of it. Rodney was coughing harshly beside her and then all three were sliding and then pushing off the slanted ground the last few feet to the hatch.

"Get McKay," Sheppard ordered and the scientist was hauled bodily into the craft, his knee banging the deck and then her shoulder as he was pulled past. She pulled herself in quickly and turned to see Ronon drag John, who had his upper body and one leg on the floor, the rest of the way in. Then he slammed his hand on the door control and it slid shut.

"Go!" He ordered the pilot, Sergeant Rafat and Teyla could feel the engine come to life beneath her body. She lay back against the now closed hatch to catch her breath.

"Why is it always with the wet and cold?" Rodney asked, and she frowned over at him. She had been in that water for mere seconds and she was colder than she could remember ever being. If this was only a taste of what he had gone through in the jumper the previous month then she didn't know how he had managed to keep working throughout the ordeal. She somehow doubted he would ever cease to amaze her. She watched as John stripped off his vest, jacket and then shirt before beginning to work on Rodney's.

"You just keep drawing the short straw, McKay," he remarked lightly, but his green eyes were focused sharply on his friend. Dr. Kusanagi was standing by with several blankets for them and Ronon suddenly sat down next to her with one. She smiled her thanks and began removing her own tack vest.

"I think…I think Griffin would be proud," Rodney muttered, his exhaustion finally catching up to him as he began slumping to the side. John caught him, his lips pressed tightly together in sorrow a moment before he took a shaky breath.

"I know he would, Rodney. I know he would."

* * * * * * * * * *


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

* * * * * * * * * *

**Atlantis, Present Day**

Rodney couldn't feel the ship vibrating beneath him. His body didn't seem capable of feeling anything but an all-encompassing cold, but he hoped they were moving away from the station fast. He was so tired he was having trouble keeping his eyes open and his body wasn't listening to him when he ordered it to stop shivering. He missed the warmth of Ronon's large hands after the man had literally dragged him from the frigid water, but he was too stubborn to ask for them back.

_Were they all in? Were they all safe? They couldn't leave until everyone was safe. _ He forced his eyes open and looked around the vessels small interior. Miko was rummaging through a box…Ronon was dragging Sheppard in through the hatch… Teyla was there too. Good. He turned his head to look to his other side, and breathed out a sigh of relief to see Radek sitting with Kwong, pressing something against the man's head. As if he sensed eyes on his back, Radek turned and met his eyes, giving him a reassuring smile. Rodney just stared, he didn't really have the energy to smile back, but it was a beautiful site to see. He felt someone kneel beside him and jerked up to see Sheppard stripping off his wet clothes, dripping water on him as he moved. It was rather inconsiderate of him, but Rodney didn't have it in him to complain, he was just relieved to see him.

When John reached over and began undoing Rodney's vest and then his shirt, Rodney naturally gravitated into his warmth. His friends were alive. He'd managed to save them. He hadn't let them down. _I think…I think Griffin would be proud,_ he thought to himself, and heard John say something but he was too cold to pay attention. He felt his clothes being jerked off, but the hands were careful, gentle. Hadn't they been in a similar position only a month ago? Only it had been Radek stripping him down, not John. And a few years ago, when he had been similarly disrobed only without the kind intent? Hands rough and pinning him down, the barrel of a weapon always close at hand or pressing into his chest, the small of his back, hiding in the hair on his head.

He shuddered at the memory and squirmed as he felt hands beginning to work at his belt, the button being undone, tugging at his legs. They'd stripped him down and held him down and then held him under water that was so cold it had burned him. It had been almost as cold as he was now. And they hadn't liked his responses, they didn't want to hear what he wasn't saying and they shoved him into that box. That fucking box with the walls that felt like they bruised his skin wherever he touched them but he couldn't get out of the damn thing and when they dragged him out the light had hurt his eyes and his limbs had refused to co-operate.

It had been so small. Were the walls closing in now? They were, oh God they were and they were going to crush him and bruise him and he wouldn't be able to walk properly ever again.

"Rodney?"

Always with the questions, they just wanted answers and more answers and fuck them! He wouldn't tell, he wouldn't tell. Soft tones reached him then, the quietly mumbled putonghua or guoyu or mandarin or whatever it was, and his eyes snapped open and looked into slanted, calculating eyes watching him carefully. He lashed out blindly, indiscriminately, feeling his fist connect with something solid and a grunt of pain followed. He was breathing hard through his nose, the noises loud in the suddenly too quiet atmosphere and he shoved his body away from whoever was beside him.

"Rodney!"

He moved until his back hit the wall and he couldn't go any further. His arms were shaking so much that he doubted they would have pushed him much further anyway. Hands reached for him, and he lashed out as best he could, desperately afraid of being returned to that box.

"Wo xi wang ni man man si, dan kuai dian xia di yu!" He spit out, watching the slanted eyes widen in shock, and then a strong, unrelenting hand grabbed his shoulder and a pale, half clad body covered in goose bumps was crouching before him until both his shoulders were encased in two solid grips. _No! I'm not going back!_

"Damn it, Rodney! Snap out of it!"

Hands shook him and Rodney blinked, sucking in a sharp breath. John Sheppard stared back at him, intense worry hiding just beneath the green gaze. He looked desperately past John to where his tormentors had been, and recognized the stricken faces of Zelenka and Kwong. Zelenka had perched protectively in front of Kwong, and in the near-silence he could hear Miko crying. He looked back at John.

"Yeah, I..." he coughed and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to push his friend away and warm himself up. John removed one hand, but he didn't go anywhere. "Sorry, sorry," he muttered, shivering. He could feel the others trying not to watch them as he regained his composure. "The walls were…too close. Wide open fields…" he muttered, as the adrenaline that had fueled his panic wore off and he was suddenly bone tired again. John moved beside him and his body felt like a big hot water bottle next to his own cold flesh. He moved into the warmth, but his arms weren't being very co-operative.

"Cold," he complained quietly.

"Hang on, Rodney, we'll get you warm again," Sheppard softly muttered, and then there was a warm weight being draped over him. It still wasn't warm enough but there wasn't really anything he could do about it. Instead he slipped into sleep, knowing he would be okay…

* * * * * * * * *

Rodney felt weighted down. Looking down at his body he realized that he probably had the infirmary's entire supply of blankets draped over and tucked around him, pinning him securely to the bed. For a minute he just stared, wondering why they had tried to smother him so completely, until he remembered how bitterly cold he had been. Well, he wasn't anymore and he sagged back onto his bed in relief. He rubbed his fingers over his eyes, distractedly noticing a bandaid on the back of his hand where an IV had no doubt been inserted at some point. Just how long had he been sleeping? And just the thought of how much time he had been here, wasting, had his body tightening up again.

He looked around, sitting up straighter, and noticed a neat pile of clothing sitting on a chair beside his bed, his radio and watch resting on top. That was all the permission he needed to leave this place. It was a bit of a struggle to get out from under the blankets, trying to find the edge of them all so he could push them away properly. It left him more worn out than he cared to admit, even to himself, and he had discovered a few tender areas that he could only assume came from their collective tumble into the water. He shuddered a bit at the memory and dressed quickly before the cold had a chance to reinsert itself in his bones. Moments later he was pulling aside the privacy curtain and stepping into the infirmary main area, where he was practically mauled on sight by the do-gooder nearest him.

"Dr. McKay, how do you feel?" Nurse Samuels asked, sauntering over and smiling like he was privy to the inner workings of the universe and decidedly not telling.

"Fine, fine," he waved at the man in annoyance, "just your average headache and various aches and pains associated with near death trauma."

"You can relax Doctor, you weren't in any real danger. You were suffering from hypothermia, low blood sugar and stress exhaustion. We gave you an IV filled with…"

"Yes, yes, yes. You took great care of me and I will be in your debt until the next time I save everyone's lives. I don't need a play by play." He interrupted and Samuels quirked his lips at him.

"No problem, just make sure you maintain a healthy diet and get some decent sleep."

"How long was I out?" As soon as he asked the question he recognized its stupidity: he had a watch wrapped snuggly around his wrist. _Hello!_ Samuels didn't seem to notice though, or else he chose to ignore his lapse and answered anyway.

"Just a few hours. Your team wanted to wait for you to wake up, but they needed a good meal themselves," he stated, which Rodney assumed meant that they had been thrown out of the infirmary by the nursing staff. "They're probably still at the mess."

"Right, thanks," he nodded and left the infirmary quickly, before the suggestion could be made that he join them. He didn't have time for that right now. He needed to figure out what had happened to the Station and how much they had managed to salvage. He needed a few moments to wallow in the fact that they had almost died, again, and that it felt like every time lives were on the line it seemed to become harder and harder to save them.

His hands had been so cold in that escape pod that he had been fumbling with the crystals, with the connections. Simple things that he was positive he could do in his sleep had seemed impossible. He had almost been unable to activate the systems he needed on time. It had been close. Too close.

He walked into the main lab, seeing all the heads in the room swivel around to look at him, like some synchronized marionette production, and he rolled his eyes at them even as he made a bee-line for the coffee pots that were always filled in the small storage room that Miko had converted to a break room. Oh, chocolate chip muffins. He crammed one in his mouth as he poured his drink and then took another for good measure before heading back into the main room, breaking his own 'no food in the lab' policy. Nobody said anything. Smart.

He eased onto his stool, wincing at the slight pull on his right thigh and then looked around, seeing people duck their heads as he looked their way, not wanting to be caught staring. It was always like this after something bad had happened, and he sighed to himself, before pulling on his shroud of confidence and authority to assure them that all was okay, even if it wasn't.

"Okay, I need reports people. What happened while I was indulging in my little siesta?" They converged on him like a swarm of moths to a flame, not wanting to be the bearers of bad news but still wanting to report as soon as possible. It was going to be a long afternoon.

* * * * * * * * *

Radek sat with the three members of Rodney's team and Dr. Kusanagi, picking at what remained of his meal and trying not to look too disgusted at the healthy selections that both women at the table had made. He suspected Miko wasn't eating anything heavy due to nerves, as he had stood witness to her putting away a double bacon cheeseburger and extra serving of fries with little thought only three weeks ago, during the 'diner' themed Friday the chefs had decided to host. He suspected Teyla simply was not hungry either.

Sheppard and Ronon had polished off second servings and Ronon was onto his third now, still inhaling it like it was his last meal. Radek had grown accustomed to the fact that that was always how the large man ate.

There hadn't been much by way of conversation, but the company had helped settle his nerves and there was nothing more reassuring than the knowledge that Rodney was not injured enough to warrant a bedside vigil. Sheppard had still not wanted to leave, but he had had little choice when Ronon had stood at his back and force-marched him from the infirmary under Carson's careful gaze. If Radek didn't have so much work to do he might have considered taking a nap after this meal, he still might, just a quick twenty minutes to recharge.

"Dr. Zelenka?" the voice of Dr. Ashley Sauder filtered into his ear.

"Yes, I am here," he replied, ignoring how loud his voice sounded at the quiet table.

"I thought you should know that Dr. McKay is back at work," he sat straighter in his seat.

"Thank you for this information. I shall be there shortly," he closed the line and sighed, muttering to himself "bez práce nejsou koláče." He looked up at the table, "Rodney is awake," he announced and looked at Sheppard, who had tensed and seemed prepared to run out of the room to see the truth for himself. Radek rubbed at his eyes. "He is in labs now, and probably will be until he collapses. I will go and make sure he does not make staff cry." He stood, finishing the last of his tea, and Miko and Sheppard stood with him, as he met the soldiers gaze. "Perhaps it would be best if you let him work for now, Colonel," and the man gave him a tight half-grin.

"Don't worry, Doc. I'm just going to take a look to see that he's really all right. He won't even know I was there." On the way out of the cafeteria Sheppard snagged a wrapped roast beast sandwich and a jello cup, passing them to Radek when they reached the doors to the labs. Radek took them without question and stepped through. Several people were standing around McKay's bench while everyone else worked diligently at their stations. Miko moved past him to her own station, but he would be sure to send her away in an hour or so. She had more than earned her rest.

He saw Sheppard silently leave from his place at the doorway, going off to do whatever he did when he wasn't on missions or hanging around the labs, and then the last of the scientists cleared away. Rodney's face was pinched in frustration and what was probably a headache. Zelenka placed the food at his elbow and the Canadian looked up at him. His sharp gaze roamed from head to foot and back again, and when he appeared satisfied with what he saw he seemed to realize he was staring and quickly turned back to the screen before him.

"We lost the station," he announced, and of course this was something Radek already knew. The sadness of all the information it could have revealed to them being lost churned in his stomach a moment, but it was not something worth dwelling on.

"Yes, but it is not end of world," he declared and McKay glared at him.

"No, but it could have been the beginning of one."

"Did your brain freeze as well as your body? You are making things up now to make yourself feel worse," Rodney held his gaze a moment and then huffed out an agitated breath.

"I kept the team you formed to work on the information gathered from that station together. Hopefully, in a few weeks it will be organized enough to get something useful out of all this," he informed Radek, and that was as far as Rodney would go in saying 'you're right' in this instance. Radek could live with that.

"It is likely that there is another place on this planet with more information."

"Yes, I was thinking along those same lines. I have the team keeping an eye out for any references to the alloy that may crop up and to also look for other possible science stations that may be too deep for us to find or have lost all power. Actually, keeping an eye out for a drilling platform or raw material processing plant would be a good idea too," he trailed off, opening an email and sending new orders out.

"We will find this alloy," Radek said, confidently.

"I hope so," Rodney responded, falling back into his work, "because then we could build our own ships to interface with Atlantis and the ATA gene carriers. The new dimensions to our technology it could open up, the possibilities…" he trailed off, clenching his fists a moment before rapidly typing again, his fingers making sharp jabbing motions on the innocent keys. Radek watched him a moment.

"You should rest," he said softly.

"I've been resting all afternoon. Besides, Elizabeth is going to want a complete report at the debriefing tomorrow," and the Canadian was fast becoming absorbed in the reports before him. Withholding another tired sigh Radek moved to his own station. He was tired, but not tired enough to call it a day yet. He would wait.

Fortunately, he didn't have to wait more than two hours. Many in the room had left to eat dinner, casting quick glances at their chief scientist that were probably meant to be subtle and were therefore absurdly obvious. If Rodney noticed he didn't make any attempt to acknowledge them, though he hardly ever did. Everyone had heard about what had happened on the station now, and watching McKay a little more closely for a day or so after such incidences had become something of a tradition. Radek had had enough Rodney watching.

"An' just what do ye think yer doing there?" The heavily accented Scottish brogue carried through the room. Rodney barely moved to acknowledge the geneticist.

"My job. It's something I attempt on a regular basis, though I can see how you might be confused about that aspect of work as animal sacrifices and sheep flogging isn't really a viable field of science. You have a little spare time, hmm?" Radek pinched the bridge of his nose; Rodney was in a bad mood.

"Aye, oodles of time. In fact, I was just off to disembowel a pair of felines, see if I couldn't convince the gods to bless me with everlasting life or a silencing charm for ornery scientists." The man crossed his arms and stared down at Rodney, but he'd had his proper attention the moment he'd uttered the words _f__elines_.

"Oh! I completely forgot to pick them up," he began rapidly shutting down his computer, missing the smile Radek shared with the good doctor. "If you even think about sacrificing them to your voodoo medicine I will develop a way to demolecularize you one limb at a time and reassemble you in various places all over the city," he glared, tossing the last of his computer components into his case and zipping it shut.

Carson snorted in response and looked his friend over quickly while he was distracted. He looked a bit pale, and there was a pinching around his eyes that spoke of a headache, but other than that he seemed fine. "If ye did that, then who would be around to pull out all of yer slivers?"

"Nurse Samuels and I are getting along splendidly at the moment, and his hands are softer than yours," Rodney grouched back without even thinking about what he was saying no doubt. He was looking around his station one last time before he reached out to pick up his laptop case.

"Ah ah," Carson batted at his hand, "you won't be needing that tonight. Ye're going to collect your demon cats and then get some rest."

"Carson, there are still things I need to read up on that-"

"They can wait until morning, Doctor's orders. I think you've accomplished everything you need to tonight anyway," he commented and looked over to see Radek nodding his head in agreement.

"Fine," Rodney huffed and then led the way from his precious lab without further comment. The rest he had received in the infirmary this afternoon had obviously helped the man, but Carson knew that nothing would be better for him now than a proper meal and a full nights sleep. He knew Rodney McKay's sleeping habits, and he was well aware of the fact that the man had probably been getting even less rest than usual on that station. Tack on the stress of the emergency, lack of proper meals and the hypothermia he had suffered and Carson could only conclude that his friend was exhausted.

"We'll stop at the mess hall on the way, shall we?" and Rodney hesitated a moment at that.

"I've been dealing with idiots all afternoon Carson, I don't want to put up with them this evening as well," he admitted. Tired indeed.

"Not to worry, we'll get our meals to go and have an eat in your quarters then?" Rodney nodded agreeably and Carson found himself entering the mess with the Canadian leading the way and stacking a huge pile of food on his plate. He was careful to leave extra room for the salad that was being served and claimed a generous helping of the fruit salad for desert. He smiled to himself at the self-satisfied look on the cooks face as the man watched what Rodney selected out of the corner of his eye. Carson knew for a fact that the original desert slotted for tonight's menu had been rice pudding, but Rodney was a big fan of any fruit not citrus, though most people were unaware of this. The kitchen staff was not unaware, and this was their way of helping a friend, even if Rodney had no clue as he happily chirped at the fruit prize in his bowl.

"They hardly ever have this much fruit salad left by the time I get to it," he informed Carson as he popped a green grape between his teeth and chewed happily and they stepped out of the line. Then his eyes narrowed, his back stiffened and a frown marred his lips and Carson was startled to see that it was in reaction to Dr. Kwong's entrance to the mess hall. Dr. Kwong was one of the few people on the expedition that McKay didn't complain about, and now that he had noticed Rodney staring at him he had paused by the table he had chosen to join and was watching him back. The sudden tension was oozing off of Rodney, but the chief scientist took a deep breath and began heading directly towards the cause of his distress. He stopped about a meter away.

"Dr. Kwong," he announced, and pulled himself to his full stature, which was actually quite impressive as far as Carson was concerned, even when holding a tray leaden with food.

"Dr. McKay," was the polite and completely non-hostile response. If anything Kwong looked contemplative as he watched Rodney through dark brown eyes, and straightened when Rodney began speaking.

"I want to apologize for what I said on the Manta," he began, but Dr. Kwong quickly held up a hand, shaking his head at him.

"Dr. McKay, I do not understand why you said such things or acted as you did, but I do know that it was not _me_ that you were addressing at the time. An apology is not necessary," he said sincerely, and then lowered his head and bent slightly before straightening. Rodney swallowed thickly beside him, and then copied the gesture, remembering almost belatedly to keep his tray horizontal with the floor, before simply turning and walking away. Carson followed him out.

"Do you want to tell me what that was about?" he inquired softly.

"Not really," Rodney declared, and that was fine. When Carson had been making sure everyone was okay after returning from their mission he had noticed a tension in the group, but no one had commented on it and he hadn't asked. If he ever needed to know, Rodney would tell him.

"Right, well, here we are," he announced unnecessarily as they stepped into Rodney's quarters and McKay's demeanor brightened instantly as two sprites in cats clothing began rubbing around the scientists legs, purring away in devotion. He began cooing at them in a rather embarrassing fashion until he remembered that Carson was there and, and to make up for his embarrassment began criticizing Carson's cat sitting skills. Carson rubbed at the scratches on his wrists and glared at the animals that were now pretending to be such angels. He knew the truth about them, even if Rodney refused to see it.

They ate their meal, Carson quietly monitoring his friend to make sure he really was okay and when Rodney began to force himself to pay attention to the light conversation Carson knew it was safe to leave. Rodney would be going straight to bed now, of that he was certain.

"Well, I'm off then. I'll see you in the morning meeting."

"Right, yes. Good night, Carson." Rodney saw him to the door to be polite, but he was clearly waning. He blinked heavily, his blue eyes dull with exhaustion. "Thanks for watching them for me, I know you didn't really want to…"

"Think nothing of it," he responded with a wave of his hand and a slight quirk of his lips. "Cadross has been a tremendous help these last few days, I'm sure another week with his aid will be more than enough to compensate for my suffering."

"I'm sure it will," Rodney replied, apparently agreeing before fully registering what had been said. His eyes suddenly widened comically, "wait, what? That wasn't a part of the agreement!"

"Good night, Rodney," Carson sing-songed back at him as he wandered away down the corridor, hearing a huff of annoyance before the doors to Rodney's room slid shut. His friend would be fine.

* * * * * * * * *

The Daedalus was scheduled to leave shortly after the morning briefing, now that the crisis involving secretive attempts on McKay's life had been disbanded and the investigation into his status as chief of science on Atlantis was completed. Strat and Thompkins were being recalled to other assignments and Sheppard wasn't the type to waste time contemplating how happy he was to see them go, oh but wait, he was. Thrilled, in fact, with the notion that things could get back underway in his city without suspicious eyes on their necks at all times. All they had to do was get through this last meeting and then see them off with a complementary fruit basket and a bootlegged bottle of Radek's finest. Well, Thompkins would at least, the verdict was still out on Dr. Strat as he had yet to make his report.

So, the fact that he might have shown up to the meeting a bit early was due entirely to the fact that he wanted to get it done and send the happy crowd on their way. Bye bye, please don't come back. He grinned to himself as he slouched in his chair with Dr. Weir successfully ignoring him and Teyla quirking an eyebrow at him. From his strategic position he could see everyone who came into the meeting room and greet them all with a nod of his head as they took their seats and prepared their notes. When Rodney walked in, Sheppard immediately noted how much better he looked: less pale, no more heavy bags under his eyes, groomed a bit more carefully than usual and nodding a casual hello to everyone. He was nervous, but only people who knew him really well could tell…which meant basically everyone in this room with the exception of Caldwell and Strat. Major Thompkins had already debriefed Weir and himself on his report and was therefore not going to attend this meeting. Radek was the last to shuffle into the room and deposited a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, tossing a little glare at Rodney, who looked back smugly, and the meeting began.

They lost the station, which sucked. But on a happier note, nobody died and they still had all of their puddle jumpers plus a hefty amount of downloaded information that just needed organizing. Zelenka and McKay informed them of the time it would take, of what they expected to find, and why they believed the station had failed on them.

"I understand," Dr. Weir stated neutrally, "that Dr. Keagan will be leaving Atlantis today on the Daedalus?"

"Yes," Rodney huffed and rubbed at his eyes. "He was informed of my decision last night."

"You should know that he submitted a formal complaint that his removal from the expedition is based on biased and unfounded accusations. He claims that he was not provided proper warnings prior to his dismissal," Weir informed him and Rodney rolled his eyes in irritation.

"I have warned him on several occasions that if he could not learn to follow instructions or work efficiently with his co-workers then he would be sent back to Earth. His disregard for my orders has placed several lives in direct jeopardy and I will not have a person like that working on Atlantis. Ever."

"I won't either," Weir assured him, "but due to the charge he submitted they will probably have to investigate," at that Sheppard rolled his eyes along with Rodney and noted the expeditions leaders lips quirk in a half smile. "I am just giving you a heads up," she finished.

"Actually, if I might say something here?" Strat asked formally, primly pulling a sheet of paper from his leather briefcase and sliding it to Weir as she nodded his permission to take the floor. "I have already looked into this complaint. There have been several recorded warnings as well as numerous eye witnesses that stepped forward on Dr. McKay's behalf in this instance. The charge has already been dismissed," he announced, and then sat back in his seat.

"Well, that's certainly good news. Colonel Caldwell, I understand you have some questions about the requisitions report?" and the meeting dragged on for another hour, while Sheppard watched in amusement as Caldwell and Rodney took drinks from their equally large coffee mugs at virtually the same time throughout the entire meeting. It was like they were channeling their caffeine addiction through each other. When all was said and done Elizabeth concluded the meeting, but as Sheppard stood to leave she called out.

"John, I'd like you and Rodney to remain for a minute please," she ordered, and he noticed Rodney, who had slowly relaxed throughout the meeting, tense right back up.

"No problem," he drawled and took his seat again.

"Of course it wouldn't be for you, all you have to do today is shoot at paper targets," the scientist muttered as he took his own seat again. Sheppard noticed that Dr. Strat had not made any move to leave. So, this was it then. The finale. Rodney was too busy trying not to appear nervous so he didn't notice the soft look Elizabeth gave him, which told Sheppard all he needed to know. He relaxed fully into his seat as the last of the people cleared out until just the four of them remained around the rather large table.

"Well," Rodney intruded into the silence, "what's the verdict?"

"I'm sure you are well aware," Strat straightened in his seat and looked imploringly at Rodney, "that the accusations towards your leadership capabilities directly resulted in this investigation. There were several well-documented incidences, which created the concern that this accusation may have been founded. Fortunately I discovered that that wasn't the case," he smiled and seemed quite self-satisfied. Rodney relaxed even as he sat a bit taller in his seat and grinned smugly at the man.

"Of course, it wasn't," he agreed. So much for Rodney's 'I could care less that they're investigating me' attitude. Anyone would be worried, no matter how self-assured they were. Dr. Strat was pulling more paper from his binder and passing out a rather thick folder to each of them.

"This is the final report that I had sent to Stargate Command. I feel that it is pretty self explanatory," he closed his brief case with a click and stood. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a space ship to catch."

"Wait, wait," Rodney waved his open folder at the man, his brow furrowed. "It's dated for last week," he announced, looking at Strat.

"Yes, it is." There was a moment's silence as Sheppard opened it up and looked at the date. The report had been submitted a day before they had gone to the science station. He smirked.

"You mean…your excuse to come to the station to observe me at work for the report was unfounded?" At this Strat let loose a very brief little smile.

"No, I wished to see you work, I just no longer needed to officially record my observances," he stepped away from the table, brief case clutched in his hand and stood taller, looking McKay in the eye. "Your intelligence was not the reason for my being here. I have partaken in many investigations Dr. McKay, for some of the most highly respected people in this program and in the governments around the world. I have _never_, in my career, experienced the amount of stonewalling and misdirection that your staff, as well as the military and medical staff, went through in order to protect you. To have that kind of unmitigated support…it became clear that this investigation was unnecessary."

Sheppard found himself holding his breath as the two men stared at each other, having a conversation that neither he nor Weir were privy to. When Rodney nodded he looked like he was accepting an apology of sorts, though to what Sheppard was unsure of.

Dr. Strat left the room with a bounce in his step and Rodney, looking a little stunned as he considered what had been said to him, went off to his own labs.

"Did you still need to speak with him?" Sheppard gestured at the door. "Because I can drag him back…" Elizabeth shook her head then, and smiled beautifully. Sheppard had not realized how much strain the investigation and the last day had placed on her until it was gone.

"I think he probably needs a bit of time to bask in the glory of success," she gestured at the report before her. "Have you glanced at page four yet?" There was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes and Sheppard flipped to the page mentioned and, three lines in and he began grinning like a loon.

God, sometimes he really loved these people!

* * * * * * * * *

Rodney stood on the balcony over looking the gate room and the final farewells being traded between the last group to head up to the Daedalus. Some beefed up soldiers were exchanging manly back slaps and hugs, a few scientists rapidly trading last second details on ideas that just came to them. Excited messages were shared and small gifts were exchanged. Rodney was just glad that Keagan had been transported to the ship before he had arrived to see the people off. Some would come back after a few months of leave, others would choose to remain in the Milky Way.

He hadn't read the report Strat had given him, not sure he really wanted to know what people had said and done to convince the man that he was the right person for this job. He knew that given a few days his curiosity would get the better of him (it always did) and he would open that folder. What was in there was no doubt something he would be proud to read, but he was afraid it would change how he reacted to the people here, whether he was aware of it or not.

He had burned it in a trash can on the east pier (after having removed the fire safeties of course) before he could change his mind. He knew there were other copies, but he wouldn't be inclined to find it if it wasn't right in front of him. In a week he would have mostly forgotten about it anyway.

Beside him Sheppard sniffed around experimentally.

"Do you smell smoke?" he asked, and began scanning the room as if he expected huge balls of fire to come blazing from the hidden corners. Rodney rolled his eyes and shifted on his feet, looking back down at the crowd. There was a conversation coming, and he knew he would have to have it with Sheppard at some point, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it. Heavy heart to hearts was something he was certain neither of them excelled at, but John had been giving him looks all day that spoke of his determination to put everything out on the table.

Rodney didn't want to do that. He looked into the crowd and spotted Thompkins, standing sharply in his uniform as the crowd began clearing away for the final transport. Their eyes met for a long moment, understanding passing between them even though they had hardly spoken the entire time the man had been here. Rodney heard them informing the Daedalus that they were ready when a thought occurred to him.

"Hey!" He pointed accusingly at the Major. "You still owe me a drink!" and the man had the gall to actually smirk at him just as the transport took him away. "That cheap, gun wielding, flower patterned boxer wearing jarhead," he grumbled to himself. He could hear Sheppard's eyebrow as it lifted into his hairline and ignored him, instead turning and stomping out of the gateroom. He had work to do.

"Lunch," came the firm request as a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder from behind, the warmth bringing back his memory on the Manta as he had suffered a flash back and required the strong grip to literally shake him back into himself.

"Colonel, I have work…" the grip tightened fractionally.

"Lunch," he repeated, only this time it sounded like Sheppard was agreeing to McKay's invitation, not his own. Rodney sighed and allowed himself to be manhandled to the cafeteria. He was always at his weakest when food was involved and Sheppard knew it.

Sheppard steered him, tray and all, to a far and secluded corner of the cafeteria. The one that was set aside purposefully for those who wanted to ensure their privacy during a meal. By unspoken agreement once it was claimed nobody else would sit there. As they took their seats the Colonel picked up his wrist band, which had been lying casually near the tables edge, and slipped it back onto his forearm. Table claimed.

Rodney sighed and avoided meeting his friend's eyes. He was still upset with him, but he was tired of being angry.

A folder flopped down beside his elbow, loudly.

He looked at it, noticed the red 'de-classified' printed across the folders face and lost what little appetite he had had. He looked up to find Sheppard staring back at him silently. Rodney was the first to break his gaze, shame and pride warring within him as he tried to figure out how he should feel, how he should react.

"I didn't read it."

Silence. A long exhalation.

"Why not?"

"If you had wanted me to know, you would have told me."

"As military leader of this expedition it is your right to know."

"As your friend, it's your right to tell me." Rodney looked up at him, meeting a suddenly earnest gaze, hopeful and apologetic and curious but also slightly fearful and yet holding absolutely no pressure to tell of what was between the manila folds. He took a breath, and fingered the paper absently.

"We've been through a lot," Rodney admitted out loud and tried not to squirm uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah."

"We've depended on each other for a lot."

"Yeah." They were so quiet.

"But it's always been necessary, hasn't it? Thrown together because of missions, surviving because of and for Atlantis and our people…" he trailed off, stuck his fork in the pasta on his plate and squished it between the prongs.

"It has been necessary, but it's also been about choice." Sheppard was staring at him, trying to figure him out, trying to decipher where he was going with this. "We chose to trust each other here, now."

"Exactly. _Here_ and _now_. That's what we chose," he concluded, aware that he sounded unsure but unwilling to reach out with anything else at the moment. John apparently understood this as he leaned back slightly and picked up his buttered roll, dipping it into his soup. Rodney looked at him and smiled even as he dropped the folder to the chair at his side, on top of his other things.

When John grinned back, it was with a slightly malicious gleam in his eyes. Rodney instantly frowned as he speared at his pasta, ready to eat.

"What?" He demanded.

"Sergeant Rafat has requested some training time on the range," the man announced. Rodney narrowed his gaze.

"So?"

"She requested that you join her," and Rodney scoffed, suddenly nervous.

"Right, her and what army."

"Firearm re-qualifications are in two weeks. I told her you'd be glad for the extra practice."

"What! You did not!" He spluttered, eyes going wide. He hadn't forgotten how pissed she'd sounded over the radio when informing him that they would 'talk.'

"What's the problem, McKay? You're always complaining about how we don't have enough time to train you properly…"

"I have never complained about that! And you always make the time…"

"I told her you'd be there tomorrow, fifteen hundred hours on the dot."

"I am not going. I have important work…"

"Hey," Ronon interrupted unceremoniously as he sat next to Sheppard. Radek then appeared over Rodney's shoulder, eyeing the pile of things on the seat next to him. Rodney rolled his eyes and moved the things to the floor. Radek sat down promptly. Apparently they had been waiting for 'the talk' to be over before deciding they could break the private table's rules.

"There is bet going on that says you cannot score as high as Dr. Abbott," the Czech announced with glee.

"Abbott was in the reserves and is a competing marksman for _fun_!" Rodney declared, affronted. "And I can wipe any score he has off the board!" Damnit! He had better meet with Rafat tomorrow now. Everyone was grinning around the table and Rodney glared at them before digging into his meal. The faster he finished the sooner he could escape their conniving clutches and get some real work done. He might need the time later for target practice.

* * * * * * * * *

"Rodney, get your cats off me," Carson demanded, glaring as they followed him around the recreation room. Rodney spared the man a glance but didn't respond as he was too busy staring at the pile of on the centre of the table.

"Rodney, I'm serious here. I swear they're trying to trip me and break my neck!"

"Oh, don't be such a drama queen. They just want some attention," he waved off his friend's complaints and Carson glared at him.

"Then they can ruddy well use your leg as a scratching post!"

"Please, they know who feeds them," he snorted and Sheppard took pity on the doctor, turning in his seat to look at the felines who were now rubbing at Carson's leg.

"Burt, Ernie, come here," he demanded. They looked at him a moment, and then walked off somewhere behind the couch. He frowned, but then figured it was just best that they were leaving Carson alone. He turned back to the game only to find Rodney glaring at him.

"They're not dogs," he declared.

"You're point?"

"You can't just call them and expect them to come. They need more incentive than that."

"What, you want me to start carrying around treats for them?"

"No, I want you to stop trying to train them. And if you can't do that, at least teach them to attack things properly. Carson shouldn't be able to walk properly when they're through with him." Angry muttering was heard across the room before Carson declared that he was leaving and disappeared out the door.

"Now Rodney, that's not very nice," he drawled and the scientist huffed.

"Don't think I haven't seen you trying to teach them to kill. Bert's starting to look at me like a target in my own home. If he attacks _me_ you will never have a hot shower again." He looked at the cards in his hand and frowned, then looked over at Sheppard when he didn't respond right away, only to see a giant shi-eating grin on the mans face. "What?"

"You called Max _Bert_," he declared. Rodney rolled his eyes as people around the table began grinning at him.

"You have half the base calling him that by now and I determined that it was unreasonable to continue calling him by his _real_ name as well. It would give him a complex, and that wouldn't be right."

"You like the name, just admit it."

"I'm simply trying to make it easier on his delicate psyche, especially as he spends so much time around others." Then he sighed and placed his hand of cards on the table. "I fold." He sat back dejectedly, ignoring John and his stupid smile as the game continued.

It was two weeks and three days since the investigation had ended and by the end of the evening Rodney was relaxing in the common room with only Sheppard. Everyone had cleared out after the card game had ended with Teyla smiling serenely as she had pulled her armload of winnings to her chest and bid them all good night. Ronon had trailed out after her, offering to help carry some of the chocolate she had won only to be turned down.

"She is never going to let you live this down," Rodney crowed and grinned at the disgusted look on Sheppard's face as the pointy eared man lounged on the Athosian crafted couch and drank from a handcrafted glass of ale. It was the only alcoholic beverage the man had allowed himself all night, though Rodney could understand that, as he had only had two himself. It was a proven fact that he could hold his liquor better than Sheppard, but he didn't relish the idea of being partially incapacitated in case of an emergency.

"I should have known she would be a good poker player," the man muttered, but couldn't hold back the grin. "Did you see the look on Stackhouse's face when she cleaned him out?"

"The image of a stuck pig comes to mind," Rodney agreed from his own place on the chair across from his friend. "Seriously though, who taught you those poker faces? You couldn't convince Noah that there was a flood while standing by his side, on his boat, on the twenty-fifth day with those skills," he laughed. It was funny. Sheppard had one of the best game faces that McKay had ever seen, but put him in a poker game and it was almost painful to watch him try and be cunning. Sheppard reluctantly grinned along with him.

"Mitch used to say the same thing, but Dex had me convinced that I was pulling all the right moves. He taught me everything I know, and beat me blind when he wanted something that was on the table. Damn shark," he grinned. Rodney tried to think of who Dex and Mitch were, because it was obviously not Ronon. His confusion over the names must have shown.

"They were friends of mine back in Afghanistan. We flew together," he took a big drink. Rodney frowned.

"What, you don't speak to them anymore?" Sheppard looked at him like he was a moron. He thought about what Sheppard had said, and then what he had said, and then grimaced. Smooth, McKay, real smooth. "Sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"You don't know the story?" Sheppard asked, "About how I ended up in Antarctica?"

"I've heard some rumors, but you can never believe hearsay. It wasn't any of my business anyway; if you had wanted me to know you would have told me," he replied automatically, shrugging it off like it was not a big deal to him if Sheppard didn't want it to be. Sheppard looked at him hard for a moment, obviously understanding what Rodney was saying. They had chosen their friendship in the here and now, it didn't have to extend any deeper than that if he didn't want it to. Sheppard smiled slightly then, and leaned back even further into the cushions.

"I met them together the first hour after shipping in…" It took Rodney a moment to catch on to what Sheppard was doing, but when he did he felt something knotted up inside him loosen a bit. Maybe, one day, he would return the favor.

END.

"I wish you a slow death, but a quick ride to hell!"–Mandarin translation

"Without work, there is no cake." – Czych translation

* * * * * * * * *


End file.
